Her face

A waterfall of dark hair,
frames her face – focusing
eyes that grace you,
a gift when they find you,
to burn through your lies,
the untruths you sell
(mostly to yourself,
the hell of twisted introspection)

The lips, curve – paint the air,
an artist framing you.
Your tremble as she measures,
her whispers
weighted with her foreign tongue,
pronouncements
sighs
and the sudden sounds
of surrender

Her face, framed –
the dark water falling,
forming
a tunnel,
her face above
yours, below.

The screaming,
rushing water.

Her face.

Her face.

6 thoughts on “Her face

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