They say that eyes are windows to the soul
Yours, sir, are empty
Love is like a level so low
You are an enemy
To anybody, anywhere
they dare
to see your full face
The hairs highlighting
an empty stare
surround holes that do replace
No one’s glance pales to compare
to the stare
bright white like lace
Oh, sir, I wonder if your nose
will know
The importance
Of looking up to smell the rose
and show
your empty trance
Kristine Kearns is a first-year English major with minors in Creative Writing and Sustainability. KK947319@wcupa.edu