Love Poetry Eyes Novels & Stories

William Shakespeare once said, “Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind, And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind.”. Falling in love was one mistake I made, I fell in love with a monster, the devil himself. Face to face with death, yet the only voice I hear in my head is his. I guess to understand my story, We have to start from the beginning.

he purred as their bodies heated into pleasure. Such beautiful eyes, he thought as they met his. Not only for their rich blue, but for the expression within them. Windows to the soul the poets would call them, and the soul he saw within his mate was vulnerable, generously giving, and as hungry for love as his own. Her gaze softened with a small smile, in answer to whatever she read upon his face, and he smiled as he brought their lips together in a tender kiss, before nuzzling under her neck and bringing them both to orgasm.

As he sat looking at her with wonder filled eyes he recalled a poem which he started to recite out loud: Did you know, the love in her eyes the smile on her face and the delight in her movement? Did you know, the generosity in her gait, the lightness of her hands, the brightness of her genuine smile even through tears? Did you know, the depth of her love, the strength of her iman and the grace in her walk? Did you know, the song in her voice, the faith in her actions and the trust in her heart? Did you know the shine in her eyes, the bubble of her laughter and the soul wrenching tears from her soul?

the bartender told him with a mischievous glint in his eyes and Nicholas could see it clearly. (Translation: Love? Love is a very simple yet beautiful feeling. If you crave a person presence around you, your eyes need to see them, your arms want to embrace them and cherish them for eternity, you want them to be with you always and you can't see them hurt, their pain affects you too that means you love them.)

Their eyes met. Just for a heartbeat. A touch of pink in a silver iris. Wounded. Unreadable. Then closed again. But it was enough. “Your eyes…” he said, stunned. “I thought the stars were the most dangerous thing in the universe. But your eyes hurt worse. Like staring into God without permission.” She didn’t move. But he stayed. Sometimes with jasmine, lily, rose and even cactus. Sometimes with poetry books he couldn’t pronounce. Once with a stupid joke about nuns and bartenders.

All the blood rushed to a sudden part making it hard. I had a fair share of women in my life and after some time stopped getting excited watching their naked bodies. All that mattered to me was quenching my thirst. Their face, names or status didn’t matter anymore. It was just to take care of needs. But it was different with Crystal. My blood turns hot just by her one glance. She was beautiful poetry brought to life by God. Her eyes carried shyness in them. They were more expressive than her. A door to her soul. Maybe her words could roll out as lie but her eyes, they scream the truth. Always.

She looked at the promise those eyes spoke and the endless pool of love reflected in them. When she thought her eyes could no longer shed tears, a fountain of tears poured out of them, rolling down her cheeks. She wiped them. However, the more she wiped them, the more they poured. Her tears, which started as a fountain, now seemed like a spring. “I now pronounce you husbands and partners for life”

Thru his eyes, he made me realize that the greatest kind of art is the one that we called "love" I've always adored him for his mesmerizing beauty that brightens up my world, those eyes which taught me that by simply staring at them, it'll make me feel something.

“…your eyes are the window to your soul. The blue of the sky and sometimes a storm takes over, but they are always that bright blue.” “My eyes? That’s it?” I ground against her and I could see the blush rise as she bit her lip. “I mean, you’re lucky. Love is blind, after all.” My jaw dropped, mock hurt on my face. “You wound me. I’m sorry I am so inadequate for my goddess.” “My dear husband, you think I would choose my champion based on their looks? Who do you take me for?” Smirking, I kissed her jawline. “Oh? Are you not a vain goddess?”

" Your eyes....are like windows to your desolate soul..." Emerald had found her , let's call it 'calling' ,in becoming a poet , deciding to sharpen her poetry skills as she recited a love poem that she'd wrote for some dude named Oscar Smithers. Unfortunately, we were her chosen audience and everything she recited from said poem sounded extremely cheesy and cringe, I found myself wincing every now and then. " As we dance throught he rolling green pastures called love, I hope we both last forever..."