I Am Always More Beautiful

I am always more beautiful
after your eyes have touched my face.
Whether I had become too wary,
or weary, or perhaps too fearful, 
until your eyes touched my face
I had forgotten how eyes
courageous enough to truly open
awakened my own, in loving equity. 
Your eyes were that open,
painting light on your face.
Shadows and light caressed
more angular surfaces than
any moment in present time
would find possible. 
Spiraling inward to the center
of your own beginnings,
along an ancient highway,
where swallowed starlighg shines
and acceptance shown down 
illuminating that pathway, tracing
purity from it’s exit backwards
to inception where I greet you.

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