And I'm Besotted Poem by Mark R Slaughter

The black inside -
Though beautiful
Your iris is a vault:

Abyss-deep
A crypt

Where

Locked in rock at greater depths,
Your gem of thoughts:

An oceanic trench,
Your mind

Shared with
Back streets of 18th century London
Haunted by the death of day

The whole haunts

But

Smooth-mahogany brown
Corneal art
Circumvents -

Lets me in, relent -
The drive to seek out
The underlying you
Is all for me to do.

Back to eye-to-eye
Pervading consciousness

I see
A crafted masterpiece
Of nature:

Your smile

Tortures -
The slightest curl
Of wryness,
Subterfuge of coyness

Gets me in the breath;

And I'm besotted.

Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2012