If my body is an illusion I choose to banish it.
I deny every sharply intaken breath,
the effect of your dark eyes. I am in control
not this traitor skin with no brain
but its own ideas
no heart
but this thorny yearning.
If I am the master of myself I choose
to look into your eyes and see nothing at all.
No kaleidoscope of broken dreams,
no memories that haven’t happened yet.
I choose to deny the children who play on swing sets in your irises
the dark nights in your pupils where you hold me close
the mottled lazy Sunday mornings
and, here and there, the flecks of perfect blue skies
If I chose, I would be blind, and deaf, and safe
from your eyes.
This image comes ‘shopped together by me, with the eye and the statues from a free image website called Morguefile, and the girl on the swing courtesy of Hayley Mechelle Bouchard. Her work can be found at Little Cat Photography, with more information about Hayley on Our Contributors page.