If Sunlight Was A Smile

You in your
cheap as chips,
mirror-tinted sunglasses:
I am continually catching
glances of myself
in unassuming poses;
moments of delightful torment.

When I try them on
I am distracted by
the slight reflections
of my own eyes
in my peripheral vision:
so wet and precise
and swept over by
the blue sky and my
black, black eyelashes
with that quite quiver

predictably,
inevitably,
pulling back
to your unflinching gaze.