Your Eyes

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Your Eyes

Your eyes, 
they cut me, 
like a knife.
They pierce straight through the skin, 
cutting all the blood and veins
to the heart that hides within.
Blue like the sea, they're peaceful, loving, and serene.
But invisible to the naked eye
are the torrents of an amber storm of hurt and anguish.
Your soul shines through the amber storm, not the peaceful sea.
Your soul caresses my longing heart,
together we shall be.

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If I feel physically as if the top of my head were taken off, I know that is poetry.

Emily Dickinson (1830-1886) American poet.

dezuhrayy’s Poems (4)

Title Comments
Title Comments
My Best Friend 0
Your Eyes 0
A Sinner-Girl's Prayer 0
If I Spent a Day in Heaven 0