Your eyes light up in the sun. They light up in the light of a stray lamp on your desk. They light up even when I am here in the dark, begging to be let go; and your eyes still hold on to me.
I always imagine your first days in this world and wonder what it was like to look through those eyes and see the stronghold you had on anyone who dared look into them. How did it feel to have someone make you feel so safe and vulnerable at the same time? How does it feel to be drowning so deep and still feel like you’re floating through the most tranquil of streams? You’re the calm in my storm, my love. But, if I had to hold on to the light in your eyes to weather it out, I would probably perish.
I can’t be poetic about your eyes. I don’t know how to say I am screaming for help when I look into them. I cannot tell you that I’d rather go blind than never get to see them again. I cannot tell you what I’d do to see radiate joy every time you’re beaming. Did you know your eyes grow darker with sorrow? My black eyes are all I have to show for the sorrow I hold within me. I have wept nights borrowing the brightness from yours. I’ll be the burning lamp in your eyes if that’s what it takes to keep the light alive. I’m ready to be pulled deeper into the confines of your warmth. Take me in with your eyes. Hold me down with them. Allow the spark to burn. I’ll float on your caramel wings. Hey butterscotch, let me swirl into your whirlpool.
I’ll swim lap by lap
from coast to coast
to make the twain meet.
I’ll have to exhaust my lungs
to tell you I am ready to drown
at your behest.
I’m a switchboard controlled by your eyes.
Push my buttons and watch me be your puppet.
Your sights and my sounds — we’re a melody waiting to go off-tune.