I love this, brilliant

East Facing Eyes

The surface is red, golden,
Impenetrably gorgeous,
A blooming satin gown
Veiling an invisible heart
Of flesh. An orb of green
With a pulse, pumping
Her sweet honey-blood
Circling, swirling, through veins
That will never be seen.
So silently she burns,
Dancing inside with twirls
And leaps; she sees heaven,
Brushes hell and turns
Five grains of sand to living pearls:
The hope in her breast
Of tomorrow. But without,
She is nothing but rouge
And dimples; the stoic.
Conscientiously,
She flaunts the skin without a whisper
Of the soul that lies within.

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