You cannot un-see what you have seen
you may ignore, ha, so you wish!
but you are a slave to your queasiness
you know your so called heart
will ram inside your grossly chest
and gnaw at every bit of its flesh
until
you could look at me just one more time, to feel cocksure
stare, may be, a glance is too constringed to see
I am not ugly
It's your eyes that aren't contrived to grok beauty.