Oh to see myself
as in the portal of your eyes.
To be the woman
your pupils encircle.
To see what beauty
there could possibly be in me
My own eyes
they are traitors.
They tell all faults
of leg and breast and face.
They flood my sight
blurring vision to loathing.
To see myself
through your eyes,
fantastic perfection
only love could inspire...
Now that, that
would be a sight.
Spring 2010
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem