his eyes do not move
(usually)
but they do their occasional languid dance
up and down my arms
and then they rest
on my shoulders and neck where they
lap up every revealed bit of skin on my bones

the cut on my finger and the
bruise on my thigh
burn-burn-burn
when I feel his gaze passing by

his eyes are greyish-blue
like watching the rain from inside
tumble down the glass,
as it becomes a wet world of gloom

it's like his eyes are trying to take a bite of my flesh
it's like they-
(I know they)
want to devour my being
until there is nothing left