Windows to the soul

I wish someday that I would have eyes that tear into someone's soul. Eyes that if I were to look at them, that person would strike feelings of warmth. The kind of beauty that speaks quietly on a human instint type of level. I wish someday that I would have a voice that would seep into someone's skin. The kind that if a person would hold onto for as long as possible, silky smooth. The kind that makes you think of my eyes every time you remember. I wish someday that I have a kind of touch that heats up someone's veins and heart every time we brush knuckles. Not the lustful trigger kind, the kind that reminds someone of sun on their face, of their mothers embrace, of the smell of flowers. I wish someday that I have the kind of skin that when someone kisses it, they don't do it for arousal. They do it to feel my pulse against their lips, the kind that they don't bite, that they study the birthmarks, because biting it would bruse the beautiful delicacy of the rose petal thickness. I wish someday that I would have eyes that tear into someone's soul. Eyes that if I were to look at them, that person would strike feelings of warmth. The kind of beauty that speaks quietly on a human instint type of level.