He had gold-brown eyes
like topaz on a
mahogany surface
but their warm color
could not melt
the ice they held
(I was tired of chilled bones
unable to thaw)

freckles
like cinnamon sprinkled
over cream skin
but they seemed to
spell out warnings
when I looked again
(of poring over
unconnected dots
that made my head spin)

a mouth
soft and pink
as ripe fruit
but a hornet was
always hovering
poised to attack
at the slightest provocation
(of pulling barbs
out of a wounded heart
and stung pride)

– Minefield