Pluck out my eyes

before the sight

of your beauty

makes me helpless

as a heap of sand

washed out to sea.

You are too beautiful,

marred by perfection,

a feast for my eyes, a meal

that will linger forever.

Your body, a loaded gun,

awakens the beast in me

when I pick up the scent

of Verbenas De Provence.

I crawl on all fours,

and sniff at the wisp

of stardust rising out

of your hidden parts,

struggling to decipher

the code of your soul.

I can’t get enough of your splendor,

returning again and again

like a tourist visiting Yellowstone,

to marvel at the spritz of Old Faithful.