My muse finally came out of hiding. Not sure if it's any good or not, but apparently it was inspired by Aisling Weaver's two brilliant poetry submissions today.
SIGH - here goes nothing.
Those eyes are my undoing.
I picture them in my sleep, in my waking hours,
I picture them in my sleep, in my waking hours,
in my dreams, in my thoughts…
They see right through me, into the core of my soul.
There are no secrets from the heat of his gaze.
It is much more than desire,
So much more than need.
It is fact.
Those eyes are my undoing.
And I am happily undone.
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