Portrait Played in Shadows

The way his forehead overhung his eyes,
always left in shadow then, as if some utter
darkness were converging there, within
the windows of his soul; where everything
that dared look in, was just devoured by
the power of the darkness that he bore.

Dark of skin, but just a bit, as if his blood
still held a strain of Mediterranean sunshine
and ran it through his veins. Swarthy is another
word that could describe this man; images of
pirates that were only sometime heroes
in those ancient days when deities
still played an active role in human life.

Hair almost black, another touch of darkness,
yet still the sun could bring a streak of
blonde in summer days. A very Roman nose -
straight and long, but not too long, reminding
one of fortitude and overpowering authority;
as if a Roman edifice of stone still lived and
somehow breathed through him.

Lips that curved seductively into a
sensual leer. It would have been a smile,
but those eyes would overpower even this.
Broad shouldered, small of waste - powerful,
the legs that moved him through the
world he thought was his alone.

A psychologist once called him narcissistic;
man to man, he got away with this. Yet for
all the strength his wily body held, this
fearsome man feared other men much more
than he feared anything at all, even those
demons darting from his depths into
those darkened eyes; and from there
into the world at large, where
women and children were no more
to him than a possession - his will and way
directing them to do no more than ease
his heartless savagery or else feel
the violence that rose in incremental
bouts around his deep depression.

Shadowy, the presence of his death
foretold itself to everything
that dared look in at all...

? Michaelette ?

5/5/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
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