Self-Portrait

I am all eyes:

Dark brown,
almost as black as my pupils,
large, round, passionate;
long, thick lashes –
women envy
the size of my eyes,
the quality of my lashes.
A smiling woman once called me
“cow-eyed.”

The world comes to me
through my eyes.

I dare you to look deeply
into my eyes.
(Though you say you can’t;
its just too intense.)
I might just mesmerize you.
I might just see you.
You might catch a glimpse
of my soul.
I will surely see yours.

I am all mouth:

Full, curvaceous, kissing lips –
Women have envied
the quality of my lips.
A woman once said to me,
“I wish I had your lips.”
And, I replied, “Go ahead,
they’re all yours!”
And, I puckered.
And, that’s me
with the charming, flirtatious response,
and blushing because
I can’t believe I just said that.

I will always be
a teenage boy
in baggy men’s clothes.

If I went blind,
the world would come to me
through my mouth.

I would suck it,
roll it around,
wrestle it with my tongue,
savor the taste of it,
swallow it,
eat it.
And, because you are a part of my world,
I would devour you too.

I will always be
a teenage boy
trying to steal another kiss
from you.

I dare you to let me give you
one of those deep, wet kisses,
one of those good kisses.
(Though you say
you just can’t kiss me like that
at the drop of a hat.)
You will be consumed.
You are forewarned.

I am primal:

my mother’s Latin rhythms
vibrate through my veins;
my father’s Teutonic, tribal drumbeats
pound through my veins.
I am always dancing to unconscious music.
I am a seductive dancer.
I dare you to dance with me;
(Though you say you can’t dance;
you just can’t let go.)
I will enchant you.
If you dance my blood dance,
you will lose yourself in the moment;
you will lose yourself in me.

Sometimes
I write
with my eyes.

Sometimes
I write
with my mouth.

Sometimes
I write
with my blood.

All of my poems are me,
And I write me for you.

If you don’t read them,
then I might as well be dead.

But this is mostly me:
always smitten with you,
always in love with you.

All of my poems
Are love poems to you,
(even this one).