Eyeliner

Beautiful but hesitant, you round
yourself off as Dee, one syllabus, a letter for
a name no one can frustrate themselves, or you
over.

I marvel at your eyes. Caves, deep and dark,
underlined in turquoise. You like my black
thinness that extends out like a wave
because in memory, you have seen

bevelled eyes like canvasses,
painted in thick smears of kohl by
girls generous but unknowing. You rationalize
that less needs more.

Standing in the valley of your words we hold
our breaths on the same page, if less
is a territory I will agree with or defend.

I imagine I must deserve this,
at how you became Dee, first tired then familiar
with the four pitched tongues unable
to roll out the waves in your name.