Insert Ex-Lover Here
Ignorance is bliss, they say.
But reckon with me here:
The peering pair stand in love and I stare
At his facial hair, which is
Perfection's peak at a polar part of where heaven and earth meet--
His neatly-fitted-collared-puckered-starched and ironed
Shirt and tie stare back at me.
I said: stare back at me!
I soak it in.
Ignorance is bland.
Staring never saw so much.
I stare, I stare, I stare.
Because it gets me there, it does just enough.
It helps me remember when I was...
Precision's needle couldn't get me close enough
Inside his lover's retinae...
Oh, to be on the other end of a gaze like his.
(Why won't he stare?)
If so could somebody please
Insert me there?
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