Her Eyes

Looked at a picture the other day and all I saw were
her eyes
reminding me of the first time, the best time I saw her
and those eyes,
fresh, unvarnished by our desire, our attraction,
Pure spirit, waves of energy, joy of discovery...

"Someone like you exists...?" the thought pulsated through
me and swept away macho manhood turning me into
that little kid, you know the one, nose pressed against storefront glass
saying, "Mommy, can I have one of...you?" over and over again

Until she gave me those eyes, looked right into me and swallowed me
into another dimension, another not-so-parallel universe
where I was...another me, braver and more of a coward than here
stronger to be me and more afraid to loose whatever this was, whatever this could become,
tenuous with each breath held in
dying until she stopped looking at me
exhaling only the other day when

I looked at a picture
and saw a past that never really existed
saw time spun off on an axis of fantasy
but
shit, but those eyes were still beautiful

gazing through my lens
reminding me of that moment
false hope, nostalgia the longing
for a past that never existed except in this moment
holding a piece of worthless paper, containing colors
of dreams vaporizing behind,
her eyes, and my whimsical wish
to never leave that time, that place

Sitting there I could dig all those silly poems
I ever wrote her, all the times I stood before
an audience and praised the way I felt about
another person who never deserved a single moment
because of the lies
behind her eyes
were the perfect disguise
all I ever needed to believe.
It was all inspirational, served a purpose
made me feel good about myself now
cause all I see is how beautiful they are
when

I looked at a picture
just a picture
and felt nothing
but appreciation
for her eyes...