Her eyes are the horizon when the sun rises, eyelashes scattered around in nonpatterns, eyelids the sky. Her irises the deep, vast ocean, with species of dreams swimming underneath, flying overhead.
The waves undulate as she laughs, the air foggy when she sighs, the sky raining when she’s sad. Such depth in her eyes.
No matter how many times I blink, I can still see her eyes in my mind, in the sky, in the sun, in the sea. Where can I look so that they won’t haunt me?