ocean eyes

she wasn't ever a very good liar and when she did lie

it was impulsive and she felt unclean

but she doesn't know doesn't understand 

if it's his karma or some unpsoken unofficial

sixth sense that people never approach the subject of him directly 

 she is happy, but she's not

because she didn't. can't get what she wanted 

and he's blinding her in all of his brilliant color and he's getting harder to ignore

she wants to tell him (everything: I'm sorry, I was scared, you're e v e r y t h i n g, 

I love you) 

but doesn't know how. 

this isn't romance, she thought 

but then he's there before her

he has her hands in his 

the ocean is in his eyes again 

his brow is creased

and she knows everything will be alright. 

 

This poem is about: 
Me

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