sjsprWriting

Your eyes, the deep changing waters of truth,
blankly stare at my drowning fears.
You try to figure me out the way you ponder the universe,
with such intrigue and doggedness 
You ask me how I feel, as if my
blank stare did not say enough;
because my blank stare is often too difficult to unravel.
You try to make it better, 
without knowing that trying to unswirl the swirls 
only sends more waves that tie the non swirling vines.

Your eyes, the deep green marshlands;
your eyes, the deep blue seas;
your eyes, the changing waters that encompass your truth.
Tes cheveux, sweet ebony,
sweet black waterfall
sweet sweet black black water,
	falls.