Green Eyes

Oh lovely, lovely green eyes, I wish I knew your name, a vision unlike delusions of grandeur are ahead of me in her presence. Feelings are starting to rumble in my M&M candy shell head. Not feelings like the rapist holds, but those more pure for the woman flesh.

I can tell right by the eyes of many things, of if they feel happy, alive, sad or dead, lying, scared, terrified in your head.
Now, I see your eyes.
They are gleaming, unscathed orbs of beauty, with all the color in perfect and serene tone. I view that, right in your soul, before I pass judgment on any other mundane characteristic. As Col. Kurtz once said: “You have a right to kill me, you have a right to do that, but you have no right to judge me.” If I have a right to kill, would I also have a right to love? I can see through any flaw you might hold and desire to possess your inner delight. I hope you can see the real me, not the schitzo side, I hope you can see that my intentions are not crude or died.
You have green eyes.