The vague moonlit visage
of her eternally beautiful face
was burned into my mind.

I remember it all,
especially the eyes.
She was smiling
a ventriloquist's smile.
Her face may have been
a summer sun's smile,
but her eyes
were a winter moon's sobs.

I want to help her
more than my pride
would ever
let my mouth admit.

It stabbed me,
like a rose's thorn.
Her immaculate facade
wrapped me in silky petals
then stabbed me with
those desolate eyes.

I still believe
that if I lost my sight,
and saw her no longer,
I would still see her that night.