I can tell by the way you look at me,
one eyebrow cocked upward while
examining my so called perfection.
Completely astonished by my beauty,
the beauty I don't even see in myself.
Peering out of the right corners
of your deep brown eyes
without tilting your head at
even the slightest angle
because you don't want me to know
you still think about me.
But I've noticed you can't look away.
You can't look away
because that may be the last time
you ever see my face.
And the thought of that being
your last chance to catch a glimpse
at my sparkling blue eyes
destroys you.
You just can't look away,
and that's how I know you still love me
(even though you wish you didn't).

I tell her how
how I drown
in the sparkle
of your brown eyes
and
I tell her
how I think
I think im
falling
for
you
like an asteroid
plummeting
towards
earth

she listens and
she tells me
about her sun
and how she
drowns in his light,
about
their star crossed
love
and
how they can
never
be
together

I guess
you're the sun
and I
im the moon

it was those eyes
that reminded me of honey
that brought you warmth
and fill you with love

it'll always be those eyes
that I thought I loved

In a world of millions,
In a place of thousands,
You are one in a billion.
You say you are nothing much.
As simple as pen and paper.
As plain as the ice on those frostbitten days.
Though you don't seem to know...
Pen and paper, though they appear simple-
are something I have always adored.
You are something I have always adored.
And as for those frostbitten days...
Those days when my fingers go numb after the seconds outside.
Those days where my whole body is cold.
I cherish those days;
As I am grateful that I have a warm place to return.
I am grateful for you.
So my love.
The one with the deep brown eyes.
The eyes captivate me daily.
You may think you are plain and simple-
But you are so much more than what you see.

The earth in which tired
city feet desire to rest on.
Plushly thick forests,
be lost and never found,
coating yourself in saturated
autumn leaves that
reflect the pulsing warmth
in the golden sun.

Your sticky honey,
rich and sweet pools in mason jars,
tempting to silver spoon scoop and
spur morning teas.
Or the mocha
in newly brewed coffee,
the bold and the cream
swirling inside your crystal *****.