It’s in the eyes of your lover that you find your self.
Vincent has eyes that draw me in deeply. Like sirens which lounge on craggy rocks along the seas’ edge drawing galleons precariously to their doom, Thomas’s eyes draw me in deeply.
The pupils of Vincent’s eyes are haloed by honey which dissolved into kelp green.
His eyes, when sad, withhold his tears but well, then overflow like breached levees.
But the most stunning aspect of Vincent’s eyes is their reflection. In them, I see myself, in all my colors.