her second most complex organs are bloodshot.
could it be from the lack of sleep.
or her residing in a higher plane.
either way she looks on as a creep.
she takes every mutual stare as a shot.
intoxicating her thoughts.
sometimes even placing times when their eyes have locked.
accompanied by a smile on a scatter plot.
sometimes passersby pay her no mind.
she figures they were broke anyway.
her eyes linger across their face
slowing down time.
how slow time got when her eyes locked with mine
hardening her clay.
a few hours have these eyes been shut.
he still sees her with his eyes closed.
simple touch is not remotely enough.
he could never change the channel
as her irises are his favorite show.
on a stroll down the street.
he came to meet his defeat.
as he locked eyes with her
so did the locks in his feet.
and he melted like ice does in heat.
as their irises expanded attaining ecstasy.
the bouquet of irises fell out of his hands
and into hers.
losing himself into her eye rainbows helplessly.
the goddess Iris sent him to heaven avec ses fleurs.