Her eyes were her best feature. You almost looked through them the first time, a transparent being that she is, when they will arrest you the second time. Her eyes were typical. But they were big, so big that her eyelids were made by God in a strange fashion. Her eyelids are double layered, like thick cream when you pour it on to a cupcake. When she blinks, her eyelids play truth or dare and her eyes, hide and seek. It's so unnatural, the manner in which she runs her gaze across nothing and everything, like her eyes are glazed with a desire to love all the darkness she sees, and then smile with them, when her lips wouldn't, when her lips would be still, so still. It looks like a miracle when she does that- when she says everything that needs to be said with her eyes. Her eyelashes are sparse but her eyelids are the valleys. They are tied to so many stories of years' worth and they are so primly held, so dearly attached to her, to her soul. Her eyes are beautiful, she is a creature I want to call beautiful.
beautifully held,
incapacitates beheld:
but shatters me, dear
________
©VioletEden
20thMarch2017
YOU ARE READING
Vermillion
PoesíaI have been surviving the past few years, counting on my hands, the days taking me, to the impending end. I will not. I will not sacrifice my hands anymore for something so sacrilegious. I color my hands with Vermillion, rub the pages of my noteboo...
