\u00a92005 by Jennifer Honeycutt. May not be reproduced without permission.<\/p>\n
so many clich\u00e9s have been written
\nabout eyes:
\nwindows to the soul,
\nbottomless wells,
\nbrightly burning flames of passion,
\nexpressive pools
\n(or dead lumps of coal,
\nas the case may be).<\/p>\n
i\u2019m tired of the clich\u00e9s.<\/p>\n
you are not a clich\u00e9.
\nand your eyes are not
\na web of mysteries
\nor a glimpse into the future.
\nthey don\u2019t burn with an inner fire.
\nthey are just eyes \u2014
\neyes that somehow drag me in.<\/p>\n
i\u2019m tired of looking over
\nand catching your glance
\nwhen i\u2019m totally offguard.<\/p>\n
i\u2019m tired of being caught in the glare
\ncreated by your glance,
\ntrapped like a deer in headlights
\n(oh no, another clich\u00e9).<\/p>\n
i\u2019m tired of wondering
\nwhen you\u2019ll cast your spotlight on me,
\nof wondering when you\u2019ll
\nshine your flameless passion my way.<\/p>\n
when it happens
\ngod knows a curtain will be drawn
\nover the windows to my soul,
\nlids will be nailed over
\nmy bottomless wells,
\nand two unlit lumps of coal
\nwill be centered on my face.<\/p>\n
i\u2019ll be waving an empty matchbook
\nlike a white flag.<\/p>\n