Pale
Skin, Dark Eyes
By Oscar S. Cisneros
That tincture I cannot place, like finding a shadow in
a white empty room full of light, and yet it is there
plain upon your face for all to see. Or is it only I that
can see the shadow crossing your face, the sadness behind
the smile? You are my darkness, though your skin is pale,
and it is this smokey tincture of shadow and light that
draws me to you. Lost you are not, like those souls turning
forever inward, gnawing at themselves, always unhappy
except in sadness. You are not like them. Sometimes I
am amazed by the tenderness I see in your eyes, the same
glassy shimmer I see in the eyes of children. But you
are not a girl. You reach for me as furtively as I reach
for you. With one look you remind me of all of the things
we have shared as man and woman and it is then, that this
tincture, this darkened aura of yours, radiates its warmth
and you are like a pale skinned angel with the darkest
of eyes. I understand you. The goodness of your heart,
the darkness that surrounds you. You and I shall be like
shadows of one another, shadows cast by the brightest
of souls.
