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The Eyes
January 10, 2017
Her eyes, a cordial home, restful and cool. They are filled with fear, a blue terror.
His eyes, a glamorous masquerade, hiding in grey chaos. A sad lie in pain and nostalgia.
Their eyes, hollow and running away. They are free. Free from this.
Your eyes, roaring and sharp, cut right into me. They see everything. They see a dream, a void of memories that we live in together. You eyes lock into mine without looking for an escape, they challenge mine.
My eyes, I’ll never see them the way you do. As museums, where I found empty hallways.
© Michelle K., Vancouver, WA
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