Window To My Soul

“She’s got eyes of the bluest skies, as if they’d thought of rain.”
Sweet Child O’ Mine Guns N’ Roses

My eyes, windows to my soul, what do you see in there? I can’t remember the first time someone told me that they’re beautiful. “Beautiful”…never handsome…that’s always the word they used. From an early age I noticed a strange effect when people looked into them too long. There was a power there, and I’ve never been sure what to do with it. What could you see in my eyes? I wonder that sometimes. I wonder why you found it so hard to look into them. What did you see there?

Grey eyes, so cold. There was always a wall there. They may be windows to your soul, but you keep the shutters down, you don’t let anyone in. I tried to see inside, but only got so far, and I think you were afraid of what you saw in mine. I wish I could look into my own eyes and see what people see. What did you see there? What was it that made you so afraid? I know you used to see yourself there…I guess that changed…

Brown eyes, so warm. So hurt. So wounded. There was a time they were all I could see, and once again I know I could lose myself in them so easily. Sometimes they sparkle with such life, and sometimes I see the pain you try so hard to hide. It’s there in your eyes, so unmistakable, and all I want to do is hold you and tell you that everything’s going to be all right. You’re so close to me, yet so far away…and I want so much for you to just reach out and take my hand. I wonder if you ever will. We’ve been apart for so long, but now I know I’ll always be here. If you want me, if you need me, I’ll be here.

Blue eyes like fire, burning bright, drawing me in. I know I shouldn’t want you but how can I resist? Blue eyes have always been my weakness. Filled with innocent desire, young passion like a drug I can never get enough of. You turn me upside down and inside out, make me crazy, make me happy, make me forget myself. I see your eyes when I close mine, in my dreams, in my fantasies. Blue eyes forever, blue eyes for never. Blue eyes are a dream. Blue eyes are a fantasy. Blue eyes are forever out of reach, out of bounds. Look but don’t touch blue eyes.

My eyes closed. My eyes opened. My eyes, windows to my soul. Look into my eyes, what do you see? A reflection of you? The truth about me? Do you see my soul?

Blue eyes ringed with hazel. Power, eternity, youth and age.

Look into my eyes, what do you see?

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Ian Sharman
Ian is a freelance writer and artist. He founded Orang Utan Comics Studio with Peter Rogers in 2006, writes for their Eagle Award Nominated anthology Eleventh Hour and regularly inks for Panini’s Marvel Heroes comic.
Ian Sharman

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