tepid and timid, thieving forlorn glimpses,
how can they be anything but venomous;
to the bold wind caressing your hair.
blinded that they are, these distant oculars,
blinded with the sight of your beauty;
my eyes are now sinners.
to spite others who behold your beauty,
is the sin they'd gladly surrender to;
finding salvation in each glimpse won,
now forever theirs to treasure.