Wearing the eye-glass I can see that a minute synthetic filament has come to land on the tip of your nose The glass reveals you in unaccustomed detail and I now see the subtle curling at the corners of your mouth Up, when a little hope is nurtured by something I unintentionally say a small gesture of mine, born of custom Down, as your fragile sense of trust is crushed under my stubbornness or at a triumphant declaration from me of something you view in a different light At this resolution I see that your skin is no longer fresh like a child's but has thinned as a price for maturity and wrinkles a little when you wink The dryness is plain, I know it in other smokers; and there is a tautness that belies abeyant hostility and fatigue... a tension that screams for a nap on a warm summer beach and the drinking of margaritas With the naked eye what I see of you, enigma of mine smiles in the eye, a little tongue that escapes your tiny mouth in memory of carnal pleasures; a small frame that brims with vigor perched on luscious legs that promise my release With my eyes closed I see you scarred by the years, your choices the carelessness of others by the effects of karmic payback You seem plaintive, weak and vulnerable a creature in need of a promise that cannot be made (or even uttered) fortressed from my love and good will With my heart closed I cannot see the points you sharpen to stab my recoiling love not the bitterness of your demeanor nor the rancour of expression with which you decry my injustices 13-XII-2009