he does not know
how soft his lips are
how tender pressed against mine
how the corners of his eyes crinkle
when he shuts them to put his face onto mine
how my lipgloss leaves sparkles on his nose
how his eyelashes tickle my cheekbones
all these little things he does not know

Ah! how the memory of

those pretty green eyes

enlighten my senses

making them parallel to

round ***** of safety.



Ah! how those eyes

regurgitate and bounce

pupils widening whenever

my eyes meet their gaze

wavering and moving from

person to person in an intimate crowded group setting.



Ah! how those eyes

which resemble soft moss

or the slick flesh of kiwis

stare at mine catching like how

flypaper catches mosquitoes

accidentally but intentionally

awkwardly but inventively

and ultimately intentionally.



Ah! how the memory of

those pretty green eyes

throw me off balance

when they lock into mine

and for a good ten seconds

merging a little too long

unnoticed by the crowd.


Ah! how those eyes

are like ghosts in my

memories so valid and

plausible they seem to

drift yet knowing they

will be seen tonight

creates a fidgety hope

splintered and shaking

within this hubris heart.



Ah! how those eyes

are framed by the

curliest of lashes

so cute they bloom

ripe smiles within this

here empty chest cavity

which seems to be defeated

at the moment but somehow

waiting to witness

orbs of stegosaurus skin

shelled and shellacked and unbuckled am i

at just a smack.



Ah! how those eyes

are like a slap

to my psyche.

Every part a swirling mass

of unabridged uncertainty.

And no matter how it seems

those irises of gold and green

will always be downright dainty.

always is there one stuck in my eye
distorting my vision
causing pain
requiring the time for removal
but by the time i've eradicated it
-it sometimes takes ages-
there's another to take its place
why is there an endless supply?

i see
eyelashes
that you
can't.

they lurk
in the corners
of my sleep
deprived eyes.

fuzzy blurs
that struggle to
pull my swollen
eyelids down.

they frame
the entire
periphery of
my world.

sometimes i pull
them out because
they won't stop
dragging me down.

i don't know
if your
eyelashes
look like mine.

but i have always
imagined
that we're
all the same.

My top and bottom eyelashes

Get tangled up in a twist

When we kiss

You ring me out

Like a ***** rag

All my feelings gushing

Out

Into your drain of a mouth

You spin me around

Little tea-cup, equipped with a steering wheel

I want to throw up

You make me sick, nauseated

With this thing called puppy love