when you look at me, i want to rip your eyeballs out and display them. Not in public. I’d put them in my underwear drawer, at the bottom, beside my diary. Generations of girls and women hide their secrets in their underwear drawer, but i’m the only one with your eyes. I’d cut them into little slivers, create love potions with them. My cauldron bubbles over as i slowly follow my family's recipe: eye of newt, eye of you, baby’s breath. I’d add rosemary for flavour. You tell me there’s no need for the love potion, but i’m not so sure--better safe than sorry.

I’d set your eyeballs on fire. Read them like you privately read diaries and find out their secrets. What do you see? Do you see me watching your eyeballs burn? Your eyes were never blue until i see them aflame.

Do eyes come in different shapes and sizes? I had hoped you had heart shaped eyes, i see love when you look at me. Your eyes are perfectly spherical. This isn’t the first time you’ve disappointed me.