If You Asked Me The Color Of His Eyes

Rene Asmussen
Rene Asmussen

If you asked me the color of his eyes,
I could tell you every shade.
I would speak secrets he presumed to be unknown,
Opportunities for the purest words
That were callously betrayed.

If you asked me to describe his eyes,
I would tell you about the dispersed fragments of darkness
That appeared as jagged islands.
Scattered amidst chaos,
Engulfed by merciless ocean tides.

I could tell you the way his pupils dilate,
Eyelashes flutter,
Animation overcomes them.
Golden and azure hues weave within one another,
Gems manifested by celestial wonder.
A divine light so incandescent the heavens would sob with envy.

I could tell you how those eyes could stare right through me;
Black holes drawing in unsuspecting souls,
Those who travelled off their intended path,
And into the unknown.

I found my surroundings unrecognizable.
I was a stranger in my own body,
To my dismay.
I dragged this vessel around mercilessly,
Blindly through,
To my inevitable decay.

The internal clock struck twelve.
The fairy-tale was coming to an end.
I couldn’t relocate myself in this realm,
And came to a conclusion I dare not comprehend.

I was always looking at him.
He was always looking ahead.
Waiting for the future;
While I searched for my soul,
And longed for all that remained unsaid. TC mark

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