Eye of the Beholder

by Genevieve Sturrock

i have seen my reflection
a thousand, thousand times
checking myself in mirrors
whenever i pass by
adjusting my hair
straighting my clothes
fixing my make up
i'm a girl
it's what we do

mirrors provide the
perfect window
through which to
examine ourselves
we see faults
we look for flaws
we find imperfections

i need mirrors
less and less
these days
my imperfections
are too many to count
and i couldn't
possibly adjust
for every one
i know what
i look like
i have no need
for that particular
window these days

i have dark unruly hair
skin paler than a fish
eyes the exact color
of green olives
(now that's sexy)
full lips that are uneven
and a jaw line that
most men would envy
but not admire on a girl

i am not old
but the blush
of youth
faded with
the birth
of my
third child

and there is
a layer of
softness that
covers the
muscles i use
in caring for
my children
and home

gravity has had
nearly 4 decades
to pull on my body
and it's starting
to gain momentum

you tell me
i'm beautiful
and i laugh
love is blind
in deed

you take my hand
and lead me to
the mirror
you frame my
face between
your hands and
make me look
at myself

my wild hair
becomes a soft halo
as you run
your fingers through it
my dark eyes deepen
and reveal unexpected
flecks of gold
you trace the bones
of my face
outlining the hint of
my cherokee heritage
i curve my uneven lips
into that half smile
that drives you wild
and i can see the
confident sensuality

you pull off my shirt
and remove my bra
revealing my
pale, pale skin
unkissed by the sun
and it glows
like the surface of a pearl

you cup the weight
of my breasts and
i see the blush of my nipples
darken as they tighten
in response to your caress

i see gentle
swells and shadows
belying my belief
that i have
no muscle tone
you trace the shadows
drawing my eye to
the valley that runs
between my breasts
down my stomach
widening to a pool
at the jewel adorning
my naval and
continuing down
my abdomen
gently creasing
that soft pillow
of femininity that
no amount of
sit ups will

you flatten your hands
across my stomach
and slide them outward
to cup the curve
of my hips
as you dig your fingers
into that soft flesh
that i abhor
you pull me against you
and i can feel
your arousal as
you lean close and
whisper in my ear

i don't laugh
as i can't breathe
through the longing
that rolls around
and through me
i see myself
not through
the eyes of
a critical woman
but of a man
who holds all
he desires
in the palm
of his hands


Posted on 08/16/2007
Copyright © 2020 Genevieve Sturrock

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Rhiannon Jones on 08/16/07 at 10:45 PM

Well, I don't see this as about growing old, but about growing up and out! (but hell, maybe that is because I am old). I kind of like "Eye of the Beheld" as a possible title. I enjoyed this very much.

Posted by Mara Meade on 08/17/07 at 12:32 AM

You have expressed this so well - I relate more than I can admit in a comment. Eye of the Beholder, yes. Yes. To be so loved regardless...

Posted by A. Paige White on 08/17/07 at 12:32 AM

Wow Genevieve! I adore this. Every bit of it sounds familiar except trade the bellybutton ring for a small tattoo in the small of the back and add in the scars like whip's lashes just above it, from a car wreck at 23, splenectomy (same wreck) C-section, and understand why I much prefer my reflection in my sweethearts eyes to a lifeless piece of glass. Absolutely a favorite!

Posted by Dan Kasten on 08/17/07 at 02:01 PM

I certainly like the path this poem took, from start to finish. My heart is still racing... wow.

Posted by Jared Fladeland on 08/20/07 at 06:25 PM

age is beauty. in my book. i look at my grandparents, i look at those who let age take its toll, and i see nothing but gorgeousness. the etches of tiredness on someone's face is charismatic. you really almost glorify it, even if you hesitate to enjoy your own body because of it, yet you find your ways, if with the help of someone who sees your beauty at all times

Posted by Alisa Js on 08/21/07 at 06:21 AM

The true beauty of this piece is in the heart of one who sees you through the eyes of love.... true love...amazing every time... a precious gift you share with the one who sees you in that light... lovely... pure and true.. aloha to you and your precious heartbeat from this side of paradise.. alisa..;-)

Posted by Ken Harnisch on 08/21/07 at 12:01 PM

We should all grow old with such fire and passion!

Posted by Charlie Morgan on 09/19/07 at 01:53 PM

...genevieve, i am awestruck!, there's this word...mmmm, [can't think of it] that this is...it is delightfully real, not an airbrush was hurt in the process anahahahaha, geneieve, again, i loved this in it's wonderful simplicity of humaness...gawhs, i lovethe way you take the love and "put" it into real action, the caress you speak of, his word: "beautiful"...man o' man...delightful...peace, chaz

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