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Pretending

Eyes being windows to the soul
Yours brown as chocolate or ebony,
a rich color. 
The expression confusing,
Odd,
not inspiring of trust. 
How is it one can sense truth,
as it emanates from the eyes,
or its lack thereof.
A sixth sense? Like dogs smelling fear?
Can a girl sense truth,
Or lies? 
What I know,
Your eyes are missing something
Void of something I saw before.
Empty as Jean de Florette's cistern. 
What dies one do,
at the end of an emotional high? 
Simply drift softly into,
The sweet clutches of oblivion...
Or straighten up,
Square her shoulders,
Pretend there is no pain.
But brace for the next impact. 

Eyes being windows to the soul.
Mine brown, as chocolate or ebony
a rich color.
The expression? 
Confusing, odd
Not easily giving trust. 
Is it possible they sense the truth,
As it emanates from my eyes
if it is there at all...
A sixth sense,
Do you see it? 
I don't know.
My merry eyes are missing something,
Emptied of passion,
love, pity,
What does one do,
when they cannot feel?
Drift softly into sweet oblivion,
into the clutches of...what?
But brace for final impact. 





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