My old lover once said to me while we were making love that he loves to look into my eyes. I wondered what he saw there while he caressed my heart touched my face. In my eyes could he see my heart's loneness, it sadness, its pain or its shame? Could he see how I kept my heart hidden from this world so full of hurt and pain? In my eyes could he see my soul's desire to reach out for love in another's heart, in any way a can, no matter the shame?
When my lover laid me down and spread my legs, his weight heavy his breath hot, I wonder if my eyes showed the anticipation, the burn that my body yearned for him to come inside my wetness. When he entered me, did my eyes show his hardness, his strength or his warmth as his phallus reached deep down into the cold nadir of my soul?
In my eyes could he see I wondered how it felt inside my sadness, in side my pain? While he stroke within me, eyes locked, reaching profundity I've never known, was he searching for it too within my eyes. Within this closeness bodies entwine, was he digging for treasures to unearth, I've yet to find or did he already know of the abundance stemming there?
While he softly kissed my skin was my lover, loving on me, or was he, loving on something he saw in my eyes. Was his touch, gently caressing my loins or was he caressing some image of himself he saw in my eyes? When ecstasy reached its climax, he put his mouth on mine to take my cries of passion, did he inhale a part of me to savor its content, its warmth, and its texture, did he fully experience me?
Did my lover need my windows to see me?
Did he see the real me, or was my lover, loving on me, searching my eyes, from his own pain, his own sadness, his own hurt in search of some peace.
Had my lover loved on me, or what dwells within me?
They say that the eyes hold the keys to one's Soul, a window into the Spirit.
I caress my lover's sweaty face while he looks into my eyes and I look into his.
What I saw in his eyes was the Spirit of God that dwells within him and it looked back at me and smiled.