Your eyes have an orbit. They’re heavy in gravity and darkness, and your lashes are bridges to the vastness of space. I’m lost and I don’t want to be found.
Your stares feel warm like the sun. When it’s gone though it haunts me. A still picture of you in silence as you look me in the eyes and hold my gaze before turning away. I can’t tell if a smile dripped from the corner of your lips or not. It was probably just a memory being re-purposed.
You’re a 70’s girl with a 90’s past. Your thick eyelashes and dark stares get me high. I can’t say no, even if I wanted to.
Whenever I hear you I remember how to love someone I almost loved. I can smirk at the absurdity of love as well and the audacity to look for it. The spirits in your voice stir up the ghosts and they hold a glass in each other’s honor. Everyone’s invited. Past, present and future.
A Hopeless Romantic, Stirred 