Thrice

Your eyes, followed me here.
Your eyes, seamless and sure.
They leave me broken and, in need of a cure.
Your eyes, followed me here.
Your eyes, sifting my soul.
They leave me broken hands, those diamonds from the coal.
They lace me along,
Giving synapse of white lines.
Then chasing the dawn,
Story book syntax.
Your eyes slit the throat, of all I know.
About myself and this life.
Silhouette lies.
And your eyes, speaking in tongues.
Vigilant still, filling my lungs.
Testing my will.
They leave me broken and, bruised and bleeding.
Your eyes, resting in flame,