The eyes are the windows to ones soul; they say...
If such a statement is true,
then your eyes illuminate every essence of true beauty,
And your soul must be the kind that one would long to be attached to...
The way the mountains long to one day be within arms reach of the sky,
Up in the clouds,
Cloud nine, high... Off of love
Love,
Like a once blind man watching the sun set for the first time.
Love,
As deep as the depth to the ocean floor,
Love,
As sweet as natures honey...
A love that could have became a reality,
But there's no pain in dreaming...
Dreaming of a love that is eternal like the sweet fragrance of Jannah,
Where rivers of milk and honey flow endlessly,
Where worries cease to exist and happiness, tranquility and sincerity take it's truest form.
A love I that I would cherish, the way I cherish sunny weather,
An exhilarating love that would hopefully last forever,
So I'll dream.

©AishaThePoet

Rising from the sand at low tide,
The shipwreck’s spars, brown wet, decaying
Reaching like skeletal fingers, grasping
For one last piece of the breaking daylight
Tentacles of seaweed, woven
Wrapped around decaying planks
Anchoring it firmly
To Davy Jones’ Locker
Barnacle encrusted planks
Lie twisted, turned, unnatural
Frozen in a final plea of mercy
Before white tipped monsters
Crashed across the bow,
Splitting,  tearing masts
Sending it to the murky depths