then hers*
                   are windows made of
                                                        ice,
              glistening with wetness melting in the
                                                             ­         sun


opening her eyes for the first time in the morning,


her soft brown lashes brush against her
                                                             ­        lids
with the softness of
              a *fresh fallen snow canopy bed
                             made just for her

When she looks at you              (remember to breathe)


(it's like she can see all of your mistakes, everything you hate about yourself)



you feel the world
grow hazy around her
the ground falls away
from under your feet

But her eyes are windows
that let all the weather in (leaving her cold&wet;)

if you stare into them long enough,

                                        you'll see the storm

                                                          ­                inside