Friday, October 31, 2014

Bright eyes

The sun, she knows hurts her
like the edge of sharp mirrors cutting into her hands
too much of one thing
spoils the rest
too much light
spoils color.

she knows his eyes hurt her
the way a thistle pricks
an unsuspecting child
intense and soft
too much of his eyes
spoil her stomach.

she knows that the end
lines to places, distant or near
would hurt her, like death
like dreading the daylight

she knows it all because
only bright eyes, like his, like hers
contemplate darkness

No comments:

Post a Comment