Poetry For Her Eyes Novels & Stories

" 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..."

She read the poem on the topmost page: Blurry eyes, in a haze, Cry silently near the window, Go without speaking for days, Written words are all that remain. What did I do wrong? You call me a disgrace. Sleep with pretty women, perfect bodies Yet you dare show me that face? I sit by my lonesome, Never a hair out of place, Temptation walks by, You get in the way. Dismay, disarray, I seek comfort, The warmth of a stranger's arms,

Dear skies, all I saw in that gaze was Calla's beautiful face. "Do you wish to talk about it, sir?" Shirley cast me those sympathetic look of hers, and the more I remembered Calla's beautiful and gentle gaze. Those eyes of hers always melted me that every time I drowned myself in her gaze, I always wanted to hold her forever. "If you don't mind." Damn it, what's in that afternoon that suddenly got me emotional? Why did I miss her all of a sudden and long for her sweetness and her seductive caress?

When it's said, when it's done, yeah I would never let you know I'm ashamed of what I've done, yeah When I look at you In your eyes I see there's something burning inside you Oh, inside you In your eyes I know it hurts to smile but you try to Oh, you try to Her eyes. Those beautiful tiny blue balls present in between white shallow ponds. Her mesmerizing eyes, Something that relaxes my mind, body, and my soul. Those blue eyes are ocean-strong, swimming with warm sun-lit currents. I hadn't realized that blue could be such hot fire until I saw those eyes. The emotion in her eyes was fathoms deep, yet they carried the warmth and life of the sunlit surface. They had a thousand hues of blue and a

It outturns same result. Her once rapid beating heart beats nor pumps no more. It's all empty, quiet and soundless. It's void. I gasp painfully. I really am highly pained and hurt. My heart wells and bleed. Feels as though numerous flaming wooden spike's uniformly peirce into and through my skin. Well it ain't no friendly pierce. My eyes also reddens. It reddens really badly. It visibly explains my every hurt and pain. Hurt over Hermonies death.

Swallowing another surge of anger, I kept my eyes glued to her face, to the fire burning in her eyes. Some part of me was waiting for her to cry out, for the tears to spill past her lids. I wondered if she was still breathtaking when she cried, those eyes of hers sparkling like freshly polished emeralds. As the deafening crack of breaking bones split the air, I waited for my curiosity to be rewarded. It never was.

That must be him, his eyes glaring at me as I tare apart his men 1 after the other and my men by my side will do anything to protect their Queen. More and more seem to be piling in and I know more of my warriors are coming too but I need them here intime. Powers have their limits with so many coming at once, then I hear the door crash. A rogue has pounced on a warrior knocking him clean through the door and they stumble down the steps. There is a wave of people flooding down, I am slashing as many as I can but nowhere near enough. Then silence, all the noise just stops. I move to the top of the stairs and fear overpowering me I look down, my love is incredible. The room is lit up with her ye

My heart started to beat fast in my chest. How many times had she seen us at our worst? How much had we hurt her without even realizing it? Feeling overwhelmed, I turned to the next page and found a short poem scribbled in her neat handwriting. It was about stars, rivers, and memories. Reading her words, I felt a sense of peace and calm wash over me. It was as if Val was speaking to me through her poetry, reminding me of the beauty and wonder of life.

Her delicate features were like a work of art, each detail meticulously crafted with perfection. Her long lashes brushed against her cheeks, creating a gentle flutter with each breath she took. They framed her captivating eyes, windows to a soul that sparkled with warmth, intelligence, and an unwavering spirit. Those eyes had the power to see through me, to unravel the depths of my being, and to touch the most vulnerable parts of my heart.

Behind them, there is a hint of something that almost looks like laughter. The beauty of her eyes is burned into my mind as I watch her body transform into a million snowflakes that blow away in the wind. The wind. The sound of Atwood’s screaming resumes.