* Come with me *
-- Why ? --
* I need to show you something *
-- What ? I have to go to ...... --
* Call in sick *
Chocolate eyes,
Brimming with cheek,
Sparkling with mischief,
It made him smile.
-- OK --
34,
And never played hooky,
Not even once.
It was about time, then.
24,
A bad influence, obviously,
But a good bad influence.
Stairs, stairs,
And more fucking stairs.
Chocolates apartment.
Chocolate ran, sprinted.
Brown eyes walked, slowly.
Shoes, still too tight.
Well, they're coming off soon.
Along with ......
He hoped.
Worth playing hooky for.
-- This view ! --
A cityscape,
Beautiful, windows ablaze,
Glinting in the sunlight.
* Coffee ? *
-- Of course --
Brown eyes scanned the apartment,
Contemporary, modern,
Slightly cluttered,
Camera's, stands, pictures, frames,
A good cluttered, an artists cluttered,
Good art,
Even better photo's
-- Of course -- he smiled to himself,
Why would he expect different ?
Life as Art,
His art,
It was amazing.
Faces, bodies,
Emotion.
Pain, frustration, love.
Real.
He felt something ........ more
For him, somehow.
He was inside his photo's,
The pictures reflected his inner being,
Baring his soul in Black and White,
On the wall, for all to see.
All ? Or just Laurent,
Who else had seen ?
Who else had he bared his soul to ?
* Africa. Coffee ? *
YOU ARE READING
THE EYES HAVE IT
Hayran KurguLove. Love Lost. When Life Falls Apart, Where Do You Go ? To Hell In A Tin Tube. With Karma Along For The Ride.
