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M Mar 2018
Nobody ever talks' about your eyes.
Like how they swirl with hidden ember, and fallen leaves. And how they have the depth and mystery of a dark abyss. Pulling you in, really making you take a deeper look.
Nobody ever talks' about how they flicker with smoke, and fire each time the light shines 'just right' on them. And how they seem to have the whole world entangled into an innocent ring of rope. Like a warm round cup of coffee, bittersweet. Addictive.
Nobody ever talks' about how they make you feel ever-more engaged, like you could be looking into a whole universe, a whole soul. Pulling you in, making you dream of dim lit fires and smokey silhouettes sprawled against a midnight moon.
I get lost in your eyes. I feel found in your eyes. And I crave your eyes.
But nobody ever talks' about your eyes.
Ashley Hope Feb 2018
My hearts skipping beats right now,
the thought of everything that has ever happened comes crashing down,
I can describe the feeling as uncharted land,
I've never been here before,
never thought I'd land,
I sit up and breathe the fresh air,
the sent of flowers and the rustling of birds,
I've woken into a paradise,
I thought I'd never hold,
I start walking through some fresh cut grass,
the smell reminds me of a summer that i wish would forever last,
I come across a field of wheat,
I reach out and touch a feeling so sweet,
at the end of the field i see a tree,
It's beautiful and it has brown autumn leaves,
I sit under it and wonder how it can be so soothing even during a storm,
I stand up and keep heading south untill i reach a waterfall,
the water falling so peacefully without a care in the world,
the sound of it is like music to my ears,
i dive into the clear water and resurface without any fears,
as i wipe the water from my face everything has become clear,
there you are with your field colored hair,
those brown eyes i fall into without a care,
and oh your heart,
my beautiful waterfall,
so clear and so certain it's like a mirror without a wall,
so as i open my eyes i begin to see,
my paradise is you always smiling at me.
love <3
Kewayne Wadley Jan 2018
And all of this time I hid behind your beautiful brown eyes.
The way they drew me in soft brown.
I found no place safer.
Protected in a memory of lashes.
Delicately drawn,
My new favorite color.
I no longer saw in black and white, deep shades of gray.
What I found was a blanket drenched in warmth.
A warmth I longed to be apart of.
Colored in brown I laid still.
Hoping that you wouldn't notice in fear of being rubbed out.
In fear that you question how I got there and you'd rinse me out, your eyes once again clear.
Rid of the nuance that blocked your view of everything else.
The one thing that would never leave your eye.
The memories shared between you & I
Adrian Nov 2017
I wrote a song once
About a girl
With chamomile eyes
It wasn't about the color
It was about the feel
The way her eyes seemed to embrace you
To wrap you up
And hold you
And protect you
You are not that girl
Your eyes
Are nothing like that
Your eyes
Are a dark
Deep brown
Sharp
All edges
Daring me
Pushing me
Teasing me
Your eyes have a hint of laughter
And contradiction
A cool brown
That can cut through me
When you are mad
Relentless and so, so impassive
But make my stomach drop
When you give me that look
You know the one I'm talking about
It's all eyes
All tilt of the head
Twist of the lips
As they curve up
In a teasing smile
And the ember
In the brown ashes
Of your daring eyes
Makes me weak
Britney Lyn Sep 2017
And your brown eyes are still the brightest part of my future, even if they do not rest upon me but instead continue looking.
31 | 31 Poems for August 2017

There’s something exquisite about your smile, your brown eyes have got me hypnotised, and your heart is a gold mine.
I’m addicted to everything you say and do, so be my poet and I’ll be your muse.
We’ll figure out everything else once we’ve found something to do between our sporadic bursts of laughter.
Let me comfort you with soulful conversations accompanied by several bottles of red wine.
We could vibe out and listen to James Blake, and you could tell me about the days when you couldn’t see the colour in anything.
I’m no stranger to the waves of the ocean, so I eventually want to get lost in the depths of you.
You are a picturesque South African city worth exploring even when tourists no longer come to visit.
Their dollars, euros, pounds, nairas and rupees may run dry but my love for you will keep overflowing.
I could write poetry and love letters on your skin but my handwriting is not as beautiful as my words are.
I’ll be your poet in a world that’s still acquainting itself with all the writers of exquisite African literature.
In the Supreme Court of your love, people have told you untruths while under oath – I think the law calls it perjury.
We could vibe out and listen to James Blake, and you could teach me how you see the colour in everything.
I want to get lost in an endless field of sunflowers while basking in the warmth of your presence.
27 | 31 Poems for August 2017

Her eyes are the same colour as her brown skin; you should see the world through her pupils.
Often at times she had no need to say anything because through her eyes you could see a different perspective of the world.
Her eyes eloquently spoke a language that was foreign to anyone who hadn’t experienced the vibe of South African townships.
But you could always understand her because those eyes were filled with hope, love and happiness.
The wisdom she constantly utters every single day may often remain unheard.
But the beauty of God’s grandeur will never go unnoticed; you can see it in her hazel-brown eyes.
You should see the world through her pupils; her eyes are the same colour as her brown skin.
I see the sunflowers in her eyes, the love that radiates from her aura is drawn from within.
ga Aug 2017
You
I love the night, as much as I love you
I love the flower, as much as I love your smell
I love the song, as much as I love your voice
I love to make laugh, as much as I love your smile

I love brown, as much as I love your eyes
I love the wild, as much as I love your body
I love poems, as much as I love your words
I love the waves, as much as I love your hair

I love sunset, as much as I love your touch
I love home, as much as I love your existence
I love precious things, as much as I love you
and i love your flaws too...
trinity Aug 2017
my mother once said,
"brown eyes are so beautiful,
but they're so sad, too."
my mom didnt really say this but uhh
11 | 31 Poems for August 2017

For some odd reason, I am still sitting here in my bedroom writing about you.
Your heartbeat reminds me of the timeless tune of my favourite melody.
Loving you is like looking at a shattered mirror, and clearly seeing every bit of the broken reflection.
The wind said something about you today, something that blew me away.
I cannot remember any of the words though because I was too busy thinking about you.
I’ve been thinking about you because every part of your existence is beautiful.
Your hazel-brown eyes are a beautiful reminder that God will not forget to look for me whenever I feel lost in the world.
I have spent countless hours memorising the curves of your smile and the lines on your skin.
Including the happiness and joy in the sound of your voice and all the beauty that lies within.
For some odd reason, I am still sitting here in my bedroom writing about you.
How do I write something so beautiful that’s bound to blow you away without having it sound like another poetic cliché?
Loving you is like looking at a shattered mirror, and clearly seeing every bit of my broken reflection.
My words will continue embracing all that I have discovered in myself because of you.
Within your sporadic bursts of laughter, I always find the freedom I had lost.
I will continue writing about you in ink, so that my notepad can finally feel the permanence of your presence in my poetry.
The spaces between my words will always be your place of refuge.
My poetry will continue writing about all that I have discovered in myself because of you.
I will continue to sit here in my bedroom and effortlessly write about you.
The world may read the pages of my soul, but my poetry will always belong to you.
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