Ocean Of Eyes Poem by Rebecca Stansfield

Thrilling eyes, they are to me,
Like those black neon and silver swords,
That slowly pierce into me,
A second lost is second-silvered bore.
(And the love is essentialist, more.)

On dire days the dark is light,
A candle holding grace,
And the over-thinking growing face,
Is a niche in the glowing bright.
(And the ever growing taste.)

They are songs of intoxicated bleach,
Yet a calm and peaceful ocean,
Which flies the waves away from each,
Singing and swaying motion.
(As I watch from the ocean.)