The one with the Grey eyes
How days have turned to nights
have turned to weeks have turned to months
And yet his eyes have remained like shards of Heaven
Gunmetal gray
Like whirlpools on the turbulent silver sea

And he
He is an ethereal creature
With eyes unsettling as they are soothing
He is like a rose among a field of weeds
And I am willing to believe this once
that he is not lying when he says he has no thorns