• prestonbryant93

Her Eyes Are Still

Her eyes are still. The many stories I utter

Create emotions and etch new scenes.

Moments sing. We get our fill.

Gentleness is now the mediator.

I have chipped away at the old patterns,

Stammered in her arms,

Shook within to freeze the

Weapons in my arms.

I cannot go further than this.

If I tell you about her gaze

You, too, may get lost in the

Endless source of creativity

And never come back.

I must keep this a secret, even though

My imagination cannot keep track.

Her eyes are still.

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