The Dark Eyes

The Dark Eyes

The eyes were what I noticed about her the day I met her. They were dark brown. They were sad, as if she had lived things she didn’t want to think about. Even when she smiled, her eyes didn’t or couldn’t.  The shadows under her eyes were almost—not quite—black. They gave her face a poignant look. If she hadn’t been a proud woman, she would have shouted: Take care of me! Better yet, care about me. Love me. Hug me. Love me now, the way I am. I can’t go back and be the successful woman of years ago. There is nothing I can do for anyone. I am not influential anymore. Love me now in my come down in the world state. I will thank you for it. My dogs will thank you.

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One Response to “The Dark Eyes”

  1. alex Says:

    really good-the pride of this woman comes thru

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