Awaiting Narcissus

When I Think

When I think of perfection,
I think about your smile;
When I think of a destination,
I think about your arms;
When I think of peace,
I think about your words;
When I think of you,
I think about heaven.

Medical History

Observing him for the first time since he brought her home, she noticed his bright eyes changed from green to grey and then, a mystifyingly maddening blue. She smiled as he handed her the swirling ochre drink. His room, illuminated by flickering candles positioned carefully around it, was furnished sparingly. 

“Lonely,” she mused; smiling into the alluring spectrum of his eyes as he shyly gazed at her.

“Sometimes,” he sighed nervously, his burnt orange eyes reflecting the wavering flame between them.

The paraphiliac, intensely aroused, floated over to him and seated herself in his lap. “Tell me,” she cooed.