mind's eye.

Behind your glassy eyes,
what is it that you see?

Your lovely lackluster stare
seems to delve deep into
the darkest depths of
each and every consciousness.

Of each and every consciousness
caught in your eternal gaze,
you send them off lost in a daze,
a never-ending curse of curiosity.

Your smooth skin, luscious lips,
elegant emerald eyes, colorless cheeks,
the perfect pale porcelain that finely forms
your vessel, brought to life by soft sunlight.

Painstakingly painted with much  precision.
and molded by loving hands marred by
ageless years, your features hold
true to their promise made.

Silently, silently, sitting still
upon the crimson velvet, set
'neath the rosy oaken shelves
of books ne'er touched nor read.

So sweet, so seductive you are, not
a word escaping your lips, painted red.

What is it that you see,
behind your glassy eyes?