She walks with eyes open.
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You may adore me once I've learned to adore myself. Or we will practice together.
I will practice. Eyes open. Holding your gaze. I never look away first.
And you may adore me for those 3 or 5 or 2 seconds.
As you find your adoration for my eyes I will soak it inside, promise myself I deserve this moment. This gift.
I hold my gaze. In the mirror, for my camera. I pause. I find the adoration on the days when I mostly can't breathe, when it is so hard.
Those are the days that my longings are more intense than will find name.
Those are the days I remind myself that my beauty is only growing as my age ticks with the clock.
The young girl who still lingers inside my soul is in awe of the woman now holding her. She was so scared of her own sex. Scent. Heart.
I will walk with eyes open so you may adore me.
When you do I promise to hold you in the gratitude of a goddess, your energy meeting mine. For those seconds that feel like eternity and fear and wildchild.
I will drip wet with my sanguine. And then fade to black and white, orgasm without touch.
I learn to let go and still hold on and let go some more.
And look in your eyes and my own.
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