By Betsy Mary Binu
Not every glance wounds.
Not every stare unsettles.
It isn't the eyes that break us-
it's the thoughts behind them.
The quiet weighing of skin,
the measuring of worth,
the silent stripping,
veiled as attention.
Admiration is gentle.
Objectification, sharp.
Somehow, they look the same-
just colder eyes.
So no-
it's never just a stare.
It's the intent that lingers.