When I first met you
I was drawn to your eyes.
I couldn't tell the colour of the irises
But they were filled with secrets
Into the dark circles underneath.
You dipped a quill
Into those endless voids.
I touched the tip to a dry leaf
And heard voices long forgotten,
Saw places nowhere to be found.
I have no name for this experience.
A winged creature crooned melodies
Found in no song
In a tongue no one speaks.
Sparkling droplets rained on its wings,
Melting the strange angel into nothingness.
My own tears had washed it away.
The ink ran out.
It was your story,
But I had lived it.
Your dark circles were gone.
Giving me the quill, you said,
"Now write your own."