I've just received from you by electronic horseman the most striking picture of you.
A wonderful thing to wake to. I just woke up now and put on my phone and there you were ~
How terribly handsome you are. Xander! Of late you've followed me everywhere. I keep seeing your name in everything!
New films. Old films.
In front of my face when I'm out most mundane-fully shopping, and there you are! Your name up on the wall in the department store. Look. There's your name in the credits, or on a mother's tongue as she calls her child.
Wherever I see it or hear it I'm reminded again how much I've always liked this name you carry. And in these more recent instants it'd be nigh unto impossible to not think on you ~
This photo has such a lovely clear view of your eyes. Aren't they just that more than bit of bewitching? The look in them is strong. It's also a little taunting!
This look positively screams 'come closer if you dare (and I'll eat you where you stand).
Golly!
Wherever I see it or hear it I'm reminded again how much I've always liked this name you carry. And in these more recent instants it'd be nigh unto impossible to not think on you ~
This photo has such a lovely clear view of your eyes. Aren't they just that more than bit of bewitching? The look in them is strong. It's also a little taunting!
This look positively screams 'come closer if you dare (and I'll eat you where you stand).
Golly!
You ARE a dangerous man to know. Get too close to those blue pools and you'll fall right in. Mesmerized by the things you're not sure you're seeing in their depths. I mean, how can it be that blue pools can have arcs of fire moving and swimming beneath these waves?
So, you look a little closer. And you see frosty winking jewels in tones of 'come get me treasure'
And you look a little closer and, wait for it! Are there books and books and books lining shelves there? You blink. Shake your head and new images appear. Of wily sweet women with legs that go on for days, and impossibly high breasts. They pout and arc their backs, purring like kittens under your careful hands.
I don't want to be one of them, yet, just standing here at your edge I think I begin to smell the perfumes they breathe on the backs of my hands, and swirling between my legs. Yes. There's more than a little desire down there. More than a harem.
I lean back and catch your quiet study of me. Like a pool I see reflected in your eyes your reflections of me. I see those mythic beasts of old, but I see there no Harpies, not one Medusa. I see in my face you trace Persephone and the brows of Helen. Impossible Beauty.
You keenly reflect back to me the light that I don't know that's showing. In your eyes I feel the words and sighs that reflect mine.
You're a mirror of what is best and brightest of me. And where you see the dark linings you politely don't say so. But I see you rub them between your fingertips as if to dispel and disintegrate them till the shadows climb into the transforming sun.
I see Everest's in your eyes. I see charted maps and your hands instinctually charting out maps of terrain known yet to no man.
So, you look a little closer. And you see frosty winking jewels in tones of 'come get me treasure'
And you look a little closer and, wait for it! Are there books and books and books lining shelves there? You blink. Shake your head and new images appear. Of wily sweet women with legs that go on for days, and impossibly high breasts. They pout and arc their backs, purring like kittens under your careful hands.
I don't want to be one of them, yet, just standing here at your edge I think I begin to smell the perfumes they breathe on the backs of my hands, and swirling between my legs. Yes. There's more than a little desire down there. More than a harem.
I lean back and catch your quiet study of me. Like a pool I see reflected in your eyes your reflections of me. I see those mythic beasts of old, but I see there no Harpies, not one Medusa. I see in my face you trace Persephone and the brows of Helen. Impossible Beauty.
You keenly reflect back to me the light that I don't know that's showing. In your eyes I feel the words and sighs that reflect mine.
You're a mirror of what is best and brightest of me. And where you see the dark linings you politely don't say so. But I see you rub them between your fingertips as if to dispel and disintegrate them till the shadows climb into the transforming sun.
I see Everest's in your eyes. I see charted maps and your hands instinctually charting out maps of terrain known yet to no man.
When I am lucky I will walk with you those paths that seem to appear beneath our feet.
Looking at your face ~ your eyes, I have to stand back a little. Because I forget to breathe in the want of diving. I hear Siren song and listened to, my feet transform to Sapphic mermaid reply.
And the ruby ringed gut of this girl pulls away from her shore. Mermaid flanks appear, made to arc and swim towards the reefs of your standing. A thousand Sirens call to your shore.
I shiver. Remembering the nights when my sleeping forms walked from out of the surf into a thousand waiting arms. A thousand smiling faces ~ all of them yours ~ give out greetings that travel in waves down my sleeping throat and coil a warm hand round my sleepy heart.
And when I awake I feel the prints of your thousand different hands on my skin.
One man ~ one face ~ a thousand men hum and stir within it. I have my favourite ones. And the ones I don't yet know walk paths that can't yet be seen, but I know I'd want to go.
Sleep and sighs are the bridges to your eyes. I know them even when I tell myself I do not.
I sleep-walk them often. Through vast blue portals to your other sides.
A soft divan often there awaits me. Covered in softer blankets and your softest smiles. Before my feet know what they have done I am carried forth to lay my head on the lap of those thousand men I find, reclined, there.
Looking at your face ~ your eyes, I have to stand back a little. Because I forget to breathe in the want of diving. I hear Siren song and listened to, my feet transform to Sapphic mermaid reply.
And the ruby ringed gut of this girl pulls away from her shore. Mermaid flanks appear, made to arc and swim towards the reefs of your standing. A thousand Sirens call to your shore.
I shiver. Remembering the nights when my sleeping forms walked from out of the surf into a thousand waiting arms. A thousand smiling faces ~ all of them yours ~ give out greetings that travel in waves down my sleeping throat and coil a warm hand round my sleepy heart.
And when I awake I feel the prints of your thousand different hands on my skin.
One man ~ one face ~ a thousand men hum and stir within it. I have my favourite ones. And the ones I don't yet know walk paths that can't yet be seen, but I know I'd want to go.
Sleep and sighs are the bridges to your eyes. I know them even when I tell myself I do not.
I sleep-walk them often. Through vast blue portals to your other sides.
A soft divan often there awaits me. Covered in softer blankets and your softest smiles. Before my feet know what they have done I am carried forth to lay my head on the lap of those thousand men I find, reclined, there.
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