mexican food.

A Poem by Reece Butler

Fitting in with the prose poetry/love poem genre, this wannabe vague post refers to a young girl's limerence.

I always hated the look of brown eyes, because they always seemed so unremarkable. Some people had intricate wooden patterning scratching outlines on their irises and some brown eyes were pure as melted chocolate, but nothing was ever as captivating as the penetrating sharpness of ocean blue, as mysterious as the forgetmenot of grey, or as characterizing as the brilliance of ivy and jade. And then I learned that some brown eyes are full of nothingness as thick as fog, and that some brown eyes taste like memories on your pupils, and that some brown eyes pull you closer by drawing the pit of your stomach in their direction, and that some brown eyes beg you to stay when there is no hope of them looking into the muddy hazel-ness of yours with equal sincerity, admiration, and limerence.

If there was ever any hope of my capturing those brown eyes on paper, I would have written them down the second I saw them. But some brown eyes stick with you until twilight glues your eyelids shut and then sneak into your dreams. Some brown eyes whisper a couple of words that cut the wings of the butterflies in your stomach. Some brown eyes lend you striped pullovers in Bible class that spike tingling static in the hair on your arms and the space around your neck. Some brown eyes move closer than you thought they would and make you count the seconds until they are told to retreat. Some brown eyes dart into your mind and heart and haven’t left yet. Some brown eyes belong to geeks and fanboys and heartbreakers and liars and people that smell like detergent and sound like the low roar of waves crashing unto the shore. I always hated the look of brown eyes, because they always seemed so unremarkable. And then I learned that some brown eyes are going to mean the same thing as your brown eyes do, and that will be the difference between some brown eyes and others.