There's a darkness in your eyes. I can't stop searching for it. They want to tell me a story, they want to make me see what they've seen. They entrap me in a look of torment, agony of something I have no knowledge of. Crying out in watery tears they beacon me closer, nearer my iris grave. The darkness, deep within the black, deeper than can be seen, but close enough to have been witnessed. I take a final breath, their cry pulls me in, your pain draws me deeper. Deeper into the darkness. A flicker of light as from a projection wheel, sounds fill my head, laughter, fear.
My eyes burn with these images, horror on my face, I feel like I'm there, the smell of a pipe, the whisper of stolen passion. Hatred boils, I can taste it in my mouth. The darkness, I can sense it so close, yet unseeable, like a constant over the shoulder onlooker. Terrible images roll past, screaming, yelling, distaste, all of it unsightly. Your eyes, captivating, telling me a story of woe, of anger, and now of revenge. The silent foot steps down the hall, the shallow, repressed breaths. The door creaking open. Screaming, and crying, and relief as you try to take back what was stolen.
Anger tearing deeper. Your eyes, so black that no emotion reflects from them. I step back, breaking free from the loud silent film. So much told in a short matter of time without even speaking. I can't breath, I can't blink. Images flashing in my head; red life dripping from vengeful thieves down a shadowed corridor, screaming in the background of a panicked mother. I understand now, that's when the darkness, so captivating, entered your eyes. That's when you became dead inside. You murderer.
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