A close guy friend once told me
a man is most honest ten minutes after
he has cum
and I always believe that to be true

thankfully he and i
were always honest
no matter if we got off or not

we lay there, our bodies exposed to one another
under the recently wet slicked sheets
as I lit up the bowl I had reserved on the side
and became concerned when my coke
didn’t taste like jack anymore

He then says to me “I love those big brown eyes”

“My eyes are not brown.” I replied, stoic yet stern

I began to get dressed reaching around for my
Made in the 80’s t-shirt which was flung aside
Hurried and hysterical to get the hell out
he then asked why I was so anxious to leave

My stomach turned as he spoke so softly,
as if he were genuine in his concern
He did not know I could see past him; through him in fact
“What happened to Bright Eyes?” was my retaliation

Bright Eyes
The poem he wrote about my eyes.

He lay there smirking, attempting to hold back a laugh
While not realizing how badly
I wanted to drill a hole through his skull
“Yea…what about it?” was the reply

it was then I realized
he didn’t know
a fucking thing about me.

he wrote of a girl with the brightest eyes
he’d ever seen; the last pair of eyes
he would want to see at night
and the first ones to see in the morning.

I wonder who it was really about.

My eyes are not amber
My eyes are not gold

My eyes were not the
ones he wanted to gaze into

I asked who it was about
not fully expecting a truthful answer
“You have really lost it” was his retort
as he hit the bowl.
With tears in my eyes, I grabbed my bag
ruffled in between his chair
and a pile of clothes

he called out my name, not wanting to get out of bed
Because I am not worthy enough to be chased after
He probably is still scratching his head
Never realizing that my eyes are





Hazel.

03/13/2008

Author's Note: Based on a true story.

Posted on 03/13/2008
Copyright © 2025 Kristi Paik