I can see your face,
But I can't see your eyes.
I try to imagine,
Bringing them into view.
I can picture your face,
But the eyes,
Just won't come through.
What does this mean.
Are you fading from my heart.
The eyes are the soul.
Are we growing apart.
I don't remember the color,
If they're black or brown,
Green or blue.
Something is wrong.
I need to see your eyes.
I need to see what they're telling,
Deep down inside.
Your feelings use to be,
So easy to read.
To see your passion,
To see your needs.
One look in your eyes,
And I knew all your desires.
I can see your face,
But I still can't see your eyes.
I want a chance to look inside,
And see the reasons why.
But all I can see is your face.
I can't see your eyes.
Maybe if I could see them,
For one last time,
I'd stop troubling my heart,
I'd stop losing my mind.
Can't tell what you're thinking.
Can't tell what you're feeling.
Can't tell what you're hiding.
Can't tell what you're revealing.
I can see your face,
But I can't see your eyes.
Your hair comes into view,
All silver and gray.
I can see your narrow lips,
But I still can't see,
What your eyes have to say.
I can see your face,
But I can't see your eyes.
Thanks for stopping by to read my words. I hope this piece moved you in places of... Knowing so inspires me.
____from Songs of a Journey's End, a poetic companion book to the thrilling tetralogy, Laying Within the Mark
My husband periodically spends extended periods pretty much within himself--I call it going into his cave. When he's there,
it's almost as if eye contact with him is not possible, either through his volition, or mine. It is a lonely feeling, somehow, facing that he would rather I not know what's up--one way or ther other--sometimes I still get the feeling he could get into that space and simply not surface again.
A real test of willingness to surrender to the unknown for me. Thanks for giving it words. Vicky
I met Jerome on a busy city street in Baltimore, Maryland, when he was forty-five years old. On that particular day, I was out and about, enjoying a much-needed day off from work.
I wanted to purchase a sukiyaki sub. I parked my car in an area of
Eight e-books regarding Pathological Narcissism, relationships with abusive
narcissists and psychopaths, and the Narcissistic Personality Disorder (NPD).
Hundreds of excerpts from the archives of the Narcissistic Abuse Study List regarding Pathological Narcissism, relationships with abusive narcissists, and the Narcissistic Personality Disorder (NPD).
it's almost as if eye contact with him is not possible, either through his volition, or mine. It is a lonely feeling, somehow, facing that he would rather I not know what's up--one way or ther other--sometimes I still get the feeling he could get into that space and simply not surface again.
A real test of willingness to surrender to the unknown for me. Thanks for giving it words. Vicky