It's that thing you do. With your eyes. Eyes never lie. Eyes cannot lie. Through them, I can stare at your insides. I get to read your intentions so well. Sometimes I wonder if I get you sooner than you get yourself.
My peripheral view has a wider horizon than you think. I can sense you looking at me no matter what corner of the room you're in. It's like my skin has these hyper sensitive sensors fixed, just for thy eyes. The way you steal furtive glances, imagining that no one's looking. But I am. Each time you shift your eyes from me, probably you don't realize, but there is this brief moment when our eyes meet. And I see uncertainty in yours. Do you see thirst in mine?
Forget instants. For longer whiles, in dark secluded rooms. When your eyes move on me, on above me, feeding on my every inch, I know which are the stretchers your eyes hold on to. For units of time I count in heart-beats. And though I am not looking at you, I know. I know the exact stratum of intoxication you're in.
But of all things, I love most about your eyes is the curiosity in them. The way you look at me every time like I was anew. Like you've just found me.
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