glances.

You with the blue-gray eyes
the ones with which you catch me staring
the ones that speak loudly their own language,
good, bad, sweet and sad.
You with those eyes
that just chill me until I shiver, sting on my skin.

And you move me something fierce,
somewhere deep and hot
somewhere no one else does
somewhere no one else can.
You move me in ways
that make all the others seem mild.

Questions haven’t been asked,
answers aren’t being offered,
but I wait with this between us
heavy and thick
slow-moving and sugary like molasses.

Yes, this is sweet.

It is you, comfortable
in the safety of your silence,
that can give me hope
and keep me waiting
for our eyes to catch again
to tell me which direction
I’ll be driving home tonight.

It’s always in your eyes.

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