Your Eyes

They guard your heart
like an army.
Your brain grows
hanging it’s head as
tears form puddles beneath.

My arms wrap around you
and the tears no longer splash
into those puddles.
Instead, they soak into
my shirt and disappear.

I dig your pounding heart
from the pile of criticisms
and rub my fingers
back and forth
until it calms and settles.

We stand together
and I take your hand,
look into those eyes,
and ask them to
stand down.
I will take their post and
ensure no one passes.

I will lay you down
and watch
those eyes truly close
for the first time in
nineteen years.

Published by

Nic Rasmussen

A Brooklyn-based poet who has a lot of feelings and writes about them quite often.

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