The eyes across the table stare
and I can't help stare back,
here in the office, neutral ground,
this safe place where we can meet once a week,
then go our separate
ways.
Eyes some claim as windows to the soul,
deep brown, deep
down, each glance I make
I find myself drowning in brown water,
too deep for the
common man to swim
without risk of
getting too deep, and yet,
never deep enough, the need to go as far down
into her so I might learn all her secrets,
at the same time scared I might find out too much,
breathe too much of
her into my lungs,
my soul becoming a
Davy Jones lost in her forever.
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