I travel past your lashes and tear duct to enter in passed the cornea and finally
into the pupil.
I consider the puddles caused by the tears leaving your eyes
And think about time passing.
As long as I keep my eyes focused, I keep the morning from coming.
They begin to burn and tear, longing for a single blink.
I gaze, switching back and forth from your left eye to your right.
Counting the 47 eyelashes on the upper lid on the left side.
They say that silence is a good indicator of how comfortable you are with someone.
The silence between us is deafening.
Your eyes begin to shut, and our contact is severed.
I curl up the pillow into a hardened ball and rest my head above my hands.
You’re beautiful even as you sleep.
What lines the contours of your body create.
Savor this moment.
I worry when the sun makes its way passed the sill and through the cracked blinds of the window, you will be gone like the others.
when I watch the lashes graze
your cheek bone I force myself to believe otherwise.
the seconds seem like hours as my eyes burn even more.
now I cant wait to sleep
so I can dream about you.