Poetry For Her Eyes Novels & Stories

The kind that says I see you and I am glad and this is everything and I will not make it weird. When she pulls back her eyes are doing something. "Do not," I say. "I am not doing anything," she says. "Your eyes are doing something," I say. "They are fine," she says, blinking rapidly. "Completely fine. Dust." "Hackney dust." "Notorious for it," she says.

Belle York, my wife, was pregnant, but on our way back from getting the diagnosis, she said, “I have something to tell you. The baby is Harry’s. I also got a notice saying that my health won’t let me have another baby after this one.” When she saw my smile freeze, she took out a paternity test. Harry Grant, my brother-in-law, was indeed listed as the father. Her voice was eerily calm. “On the day you fell asleep at the back of the jeep with fever, we did it in the passenger seat, right where I’m sitting.” In an instant, I felt like I had fallen into the abyss. I opened my mouth, but it was like something was blocking my throat. As she spoke, Belle cast her eyes on her swollen belly,

She was blindfolded, her body swaying slowly to a rhythm only she could hear. “Goddess Herse,” she whispered, her voice like dry leaves skittering across a floor. She slowly removed her blindfold, revealing eyes that were gray and clouded, as if they were filled with the very mist I command. I felt a pang of pity for her. To see every truth meant she could never truly know the bliss of being blind to the future.

I whispered my feet dragging slowly on the dead garden. Her eyes had lost it’s shine, the green orbs that held promise had faded, the warmth her eyes carried had become frozen in cold. “Daisy,” she mumbled. I tried to touch her, but her skin burned like the scouring furnace, and I hissed in pain, pulling my fingers away. Her dark eyes turned towards me, I was trapped in the abyss of nothingness in her gaze. “the storm has risen, a kingdom lost. The earth shall quake, blood and fire running at its peak. Rebirth shall come, but what will it leave at its wake?”

After my eyes were plucked out, I lay on the operating table with two empty sockets on my face, resembling that of a broken doll. Samuel Sterling felt no guilt. He picked up my eyes to examine them and praised them, saying, "Daeleen was right. These really are a beautiful pair of eyes! I promised you, Daeleen. I will make all your wishes come true." As the anesthesia's effect slowly wore off, I could not help but cry out in pain. Samuel finally turned his attention to me as if blaming me for interrupting his memories of Daeleen.

She is different from every other girl, not in a weird way but a good one. We all were taking photos for the past hour. It all has come out very well, to be honest. Most of them were candid as I, Adam, and Carter clicked ours and friends while they were talking and laughing. Especially she caught my attention solely towards her bright amethyst-eyed girl. Her eyes are magic. She is beautiful like a purple sky who would she break boundaries and set the skylight with her sparkling violet eyes. Sometimes I just want to look into her eyes and get lost, swarming into her purple eyes. I listen to her eyes it always speaks the truth she wants to say despite her mouth.

Layla said, turning on the song. The melody crept into Elliot's ears. [We seem to have just separated yesterday; my world is plunged into darkness. In a desolate city, the wind wraps around my body. I seem to be blind, and you take everything from me, and you laugh at me for not being free and easy... I seem blind; the wind dried my tears; I have forgotten the pain you gave me.] Elliot listened to the absurd lyrics, and his endurance reached the limit. He grabbed his daughter's cell phone and paused the song.

Want to see a clumsy attempt at a poem? Well, here goes something. Green eyes like the colour of the sea at high tide. Turquoise is what they are actually called. Sultry lips ready for devouring, a come hither gaze a calling. Red fiery hair that shines in the sunlight, delectable curves on a petite figure. She's a whole mood with sprinklings of spunk, I would like to get all up in her trunk. How was that for a first timer?

He kept his eyes open seeing her flushed face,whereas her eyes were tightly closed. The position changed and her mouth was covered by his mouth once again. She wanted him inside her yet he was letting the fire reach its peak. "Open your eyes, I want to see in those deep dreamy eyes, my beautiful."

She will become a prisoner in a place she would've used to call 'Home'. I recall the look in her big azure eyes. Eyes so full of life and mystery. Like the sea, calm and beautiful but deep and treacherous. Swirling with colour. But beauty is just an outta shell, she is wicked within. They all are! But that expression comes to mind, "the eyes are the windows to the soul." If that even rings the slightest bit true, could she be an exception? No, she can't be. Even if she was it would not change anything now would it? 'why am I even considering this??' she will fade away and wilt like a flower one day, her beauty will not even last. 'unless I make it last?' but why would I?