A regretful meeting of eyes

Lynlee Derrick, Managing Editor of Assignments

Your eyes latched onto hers like a corroded chain

finding its home in amber locks of complacent pain

that strikingly stared back into yours

in an exhausting effort to keep everything maintained.


Yet your eyes were daggers—serrated and selfish—

as they dug into her with deeds rivaling devilish

like you were an illuminated lucifer,

waiting to turn your heaven-sent smile hellish.


And after you lured her in, into your lull of lies,

those daggers shifted to scalpels hungry for their prize.


Swiftly, practically defining the word, they cut

in search of an end of those eyes when shut;

in search of something more than superficial sepia;

in search of something tangled in the string of somewhat.


Deeper and darker you dug and you dug

under the guise of stable sweet and staying snug

until you heard the click—the thunderstorm release

everything hidden behind her smile and shrugs.


And you found hand retracting, your body recoiling,

as you wished you had never known her eyes instead.