His eyes were coffee
at first seeming bitter and black,
but as the rays of dawn struck his handsome,
rugged face,
they were the color of cream poured into coffee,
glimmering the soft beautiful mixture of amber and hazel,
that always reminded her of him,
when she poured her cream into her coffee in the morning.
YOU ARE READING
Oleander-COMPLETED
PoetryALL RIGHTS RESERVED Her words were like oleander flowers, so delicate, like a gossamer spider string, but poisonous, like her scarred, despondent heart. *in other words, my crap poetry that is still really important to me*
