The Chestnut Left

I never met a woman with
Such radiating skin.
Your light is seen in Tokyo,
Chicago and Berlin.

A grand, majestic presence
When you walk into a room,
Your hand, my shoulder's weakness and
Your voice, my ears' perfume.

The hazel right, the chestnut left?
Two flaws you flatly flaunt,
(Of all elixirs that I need)
The only ones I want.

I pause to note your graceful feet;
No poems shed light on these,
But when my hands approach your hips,
I fall upon my knees.

My actions stop and I will bend
An ear whene'er you speak,
Although my thoughts are less than still
(I dream of tongues in cheek).

However, this is null and void
For these are all but looks
And all but features, all but lies
To catch me on your hooks.

You reel me in. You slap my cheek
And pierce my bended ear.
Your feline, fragrant voice is now
A whispered purr, severe.

Your hand that once anesthetized,
The eyes that bait me south
Are used to then resuscitate
And give me fist-to-mouth.

It should be known, your lustrous skin
That glows for all to see
Gives radiation poisoning.
I sing a song of thee.