Where My Iris Still Has Its Color
Lying here
In the arms of a man
I don’t care to know
Wondering where I
Go from here
Your name and image
Suddenly appearing in my mind,
An image that was once clear
Now cloudy
As if a distant memory
Almost as if imagining
The piercing eyes
Of an attractive stranger in my head
Then the image clears to
Reveal the hazel iris that
Once meant I was home
The iris that once took
My boundaries away,
By staring into my soul
Later revealing that
They’d only eased my pain
To satisfy a monster’s
Carnal desires
I wonder if they
Ever felt a thing
You were a better actor than
Ever disclosed, than ever owned, leaving
My ambiguously toned iris
To fade to grey, hiding its array colors from
The world, fearing that compassion
Would return again, only to
Bite down on this
Strong exterior revealing an
Unrecognizably mutilated interior
People on the highway looking down
On clouded windows,
Did they ever think about
The broken youth inside of the car?
Whose salvation was reliant upon
The touch of hands and the
Embrace of arms not incapable,
Merely unwilling to hold this disaster.
The empty mailbox now leaves
Me nauseous, as I await
Magical words to soothe
My aching soul, it dawns on
Me that my soul and those words are
No more,
No more
Arms around me shift, wrapping
Around me tighter,
And I feel nothing, a tear
Hitting the pillowcase in what’s
Now a nightly ritual,
Eyes close
For my dreams are the only
Place where my iris still has its color