If only your eyes were like muddy waters; likely to be avoided and quickly misunderstood.

If only your face wasn't polluted by the bright orbs of our soul.

I could look upon you as a pile of bones, sewn together with world-worn flesh.

The lines of your face could only contort into expected expressions;  anger, fear and joy.

I could be in your presence without your lighthouse beams upon my bare breast.

I could lurk in the shadow without fear of you finding me.

You would be as a voiceless animal; loved in your dumbness.

The images poured into my mind could be true, you could be but a body.

But.

You do have eyes.

Eyes that cleave my being in two.

Eyes who's light reveals every bit of my heart.

The attentionless face is broken by your intent eyes.

You are.

A presence.

A being.

A wit and a mind.