She slipped the glove from off of her hand, phrasing
Those words with th' gentle curiosity that
Came forth beneath bright eyes, between the things
Which we call lips, but hers part like a cat,
Just showing the pearl-white tips of her teeth,
And speak of the things both old and new-wrought
That send my brain feeling to cliffs and reefs
of that which lovers think but sometimes not ought.
She says to me, as she stands naked to
My gleaming eye, Is this how you see me?
Is this the sum of my worth here? For you
Like what you view, and yet you're not too true
For it's not this which you desire in me,
That is held with what eyes cannot true see.
Reason for writing:
Just practicing.
Birth sign: Not entered
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