I look at the picture
And my gaze falls upon your hair
Dark
Black
Hair that cascades down the sides of your face like a black churning waterfall
Black
A deep black
So deep it drags me into the embrace of your ravishing beauty...

...but this is not what commands my gaze.

I look at the picture
And my gaze falls upon your eyes
Sparkling
Riveting
Eyes that enchant me
The dark shadows of that perfectly frame your eyes
Highlight the tiny dot of contrast within
That seems to be the gateway to the most intricately beautiful soul
That I have ever had the blessing to bear witness to...

...but this is not what commands my gaze.

I look at the picture
And my gaze falls upon your lips
Lucious
Red
Lips slightly parted
As you seem to yearn for something
Your sense of vivacious earnestness
Multiplied tenfold
Just by those subtly parted lips...

...but this is not what commands my gaze.

I look at the picture
And my gaze falls upon your shoulder
An elegant
Subtle
Olive-brown skin tone perfectly juxtaposed against your charcoal black hair
Your shoulder tantalizingly flaunts itself
Daring!
Any and all
To defy your beauty...

...but this is not what commands my gaze.

No.

What commands my gaze is your neck.

Your black waterfall of churning hair
Your bright soulful eyes
Your vivacious earnest red lips
Your tantalizingly olive-brown shoulder
All combine to form
An absolute
GODDESS
of beauty
They all point towards your neck
They all seem to show me where your true beauty lies
It makes me realize that this time it's different

I could run my hand through your churning black hair a million times
I could get lost in your soulful gaza day after day
I could kiss your lavish lips every second of my day
I could carress the flawless perfection of your shoulder until my hands foem calluses

But...

I would forego all of that
If you would but let me rest my head on your shoulder
Against your neck...
Where I wouls feel safe
And enough
And strong
And adequate
And beautiful

Yes
Indeed
It is your neck that commands my gaze

I look at the picture
And I see her hair
Dark
Black
Cascading down the sides of her face like a black churning waterfall
Black
A deep black
So deep it drags me into her charmfulness

But this is not what catches my eyes

I see her beautiful eyes
Cast in an enchanting gaze
As if she can see farther than us all
The shadows perfectly frame her eyes
And that tiny dot of reflection within seems to be the gateway to the most intricately beautiful soul ever

But this is not what catches my eye

I see her full luscious lips
Covered in lavish red lipstick
Her lips are slightly parted as she seems to yearn for something
The sense of earnestness about her multiplied tenfold
Just by parted lips

But this is not what catches my eye

I see her left shoulder exposed by her shirt that elegantly shows her subtle skin tone
Her black hair juxtaposed perfectly next to her dark olive brown skin
Her shoulder tantalizingly flaunts its beauty to the world
Daring any and all to defy her beauty

But this is not what catches my eye
No
What catches my eye is her neck...

The black waterfall of hair
The bright reflection of her soulful eyes
The vivaciously earnest red lips
The tantalizing olive brown shoulder
Combine to form what I have come to think of as a Goddess of beauty on this earth
They all seem to point to her neck and show where her true beauty lies for me
It makes me realise that this time it's different
I could run my hand through her hair a million times
I could stare into her soulful eyes for hours
I coukd kiss her beautiful lips a million times
I could carress her flawlessly smooth shoulder until I form calluses
But I would forgo all of that if she would just let me rest my head on her shoulder
Against her neck
Where I would feel safe
And enough
And adequate
And beautiful

Yes
Indeed
It is her neck that catches my eye

being dead inside is a paradox.
a contradiction. polar opposites.
you feel nothing at all, but at the same time you're feeling something.
there are no intense emotions yet, feeling so dead inside is an intense emotion in itself.
you're comforted by the fact that you won't feel any bad emotions but
at the same time, you're dissatisfied because you won't feel any good emotions either.
being dead inside is great when your lover leaves you, when your friend dies, when everything comes crumbling down at once ... because you won't feel it as much.
being dead inside is terrible when your lover tries to kiss you, when your friend invites you on a vacation, when everything starts coming together ... because you won't feel it as much either.

I woke up on the cold bathroom floor because I swore I heard your voice.
It turns out that whiskey sounds a lot like you.
No matter how much I drink,
It's you that always leaves me feeling empty.