I have honeyeater eyes, sometimes
Diluted pupils wide like the eyelashed galaxies of a giraffe's.
Peculiar when questioning silences
They surround me in their sublime unity.
In the quiet I wait for the piercing of voices, laughs.
Daydreams of onions and firecracker sparks confuse my
Mind's eye in it's quest for an ultimate erosion of smiles.
It's fine.
My racing car drivers have a track inside me that will guide their recklessness
Their careless spiralling across the arms and legs with which I exist.
While my ego snacks on grapes among a crowd of seasoned gladiator champions
There's a moment of patient humming from the universe I'm surrounded by.
They blink, wink, then cry.
And I cry with them.
~
About the Creator
Ruby Red
Heya friend, I'm Red!
I write poetry, so subscribe for a hint of vulnerability, some honesty and the occasional glimpse behind my mask 🌱
Taking a break from Vocal; focusing on my anthology 🫶💖
AI is not art.
📢 Raise Your Voice Thread: 01/08/2026
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By Raise Your Voice by Vocal6 days ago in Resources
Comments (1)
I was going to ask what type of eyes those were, but you answered that so beautifully in your poem