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Snipes Jun 21
A star died in my eyes
A black hole in my iris
A light I thought I shined
Instead casts hazard alert signs

My horizon is lack lustered
The fall is an everlasting lost
I want to believe these eventful dreams
Are preparing me for the relative of death
Or maybe to rest on a point of no return
Such as my eyes looking too the past
As the iris collapses

These thoughts are micro
Yet weigh on me heavy
My eyes engulf aglow
Yet dream only sightly
Rupert Pip Jun 1
Looking down at you
looking up at me
I see the whole world
glistening in your
wild, wild eyes.
Love is in the eyes.
My words are written in lines and I hide behind them, I hope you understand them as the way I loved you.
Cox Sep 2020
I love watching Spring bloom in the reflection of your eyes.
Safana Sep 2020
A white flower
wearing an eyeglass,
her eyelash rolled
Like calla lily,
her bright beautiful
sciera looks glassy
like, brown iris and
chocolate pupil rouned,
Stood up
her face
Brighten the Android
phone is softly touching,
when Funda closed the
shop door, she turn
her face to me
and she said
a beautiful flower
sundial iris Oct 2020
Love is

a good thing

when frosted coated with

passionate kisses.

Without them kisses,

it’s like kissing your parents

on the


meaningful but not pleasurable
sundial iris Aug 2020

~for Sally~

there is no escaping it.

to write of subtle,

one must be blunt,



write with no subtlety.

there is no way, impossible, to capture the fine single threads required
to weave a tapestry of bold and delicate intertwined, of depth and
surface, of a droplet of water shining outstanding in a sea of harsh

there is bold, there is pale. they can coexist, perhaps even
heighten each other.

but subtle is a delicacy, a single thread, a standard rarely achieved.

which is why this poem makes no pretense at subtlety.

Aug 21~22
Cox May 2020
Eyes a devil blue.
Drowning those who swim in your hue.
A captivating, gorgeous blue.
Distracted by the iris, the pupil a black hole- a virus- ******* the stars out of people.
Pulling them to the edge of your eye, you watch them from afar, as they try and survive.
rig May 2020
her name caught a question in my throat:
its first utterance barely completed
and i felt her hate engulf my all.
i touch the scars upon her back, still
gold in the lightlessness of her doom,
longing for stripped rainbows - turned to mist.
she’ll forever resent my living
beside her living half. my love for
colors she herself once stood for too.
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