Malinda Poetry: For Vraie

I could gaze and gaze

at the contour of eye,

the perked eyelash
write epics of those blessed circles
your eyes caress,
could move too
obtain difference
in angle and light
even through un-blink and steadfast gaze
but then again,
if you turned, or just moved eye
not to let gaze-trajectories meet
but just a minute ‘towards’,
I would weep,
I am certain.