her eyes are a crescent moon,

a hooded sly smile,

black mystery

beneath pale skin,

as if hiding,

too prideful,

or soft

and kind

remind you of

geisha stories,

curved lips painted red,

skin powdered white

dark eyes beneath thick lids,

her eyes

mocked plain, lacking

become an emblem

of ancestry,

here

her eyes

are exotic rapture

her eyes

you see at night,

heavy in thought,

looking into your

pale blue ice,

fueling a burning fire,

her eyes, always

on your mind,

warm, dripping, red

to the sound of good bye.