Girl With the Golden Eyes

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Rachel Swerske

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The one in the back of the room sets the tone for the picture
Two red heels clip-clopping the tile
And that's when I saw her
She was twisting her hair round and round on her left index finger
I'm no match for such an instinctual figure
The girl with the golden eyes

It's a long endless hallway and every door holds her attention
For behind every one there's another
Who eyes her ascension
And that moment remembers a story beyond comprehension
She's a plothole, a foil, she's an end of beginnings
The girl with the golden eyes

I sit waiting, awash in the juxtaposition of conflicts
She's still searching, but I've found my purpose
And everyone knows it
She's above all afflicted with thinking she hears their perception
She sees through the desperate pleas of the addict
The girl with the golden eyes

Oh, don't you wish that you were near her
Don't you wish you could see that sensation of clarity
Don't you see? Your sincerity
It reeks of prosperity
She favors transparency over empty coherency

I'd die waiting for her if it guaranteed awe everlasting
Two satellites destined for enduring paths of contrasting
She walks past and she sits all alone and I know it's her nature
For my instinct opposes and tells me to chase her
The girl with the golden eyes

Oh, don't you think you could go near her
Don't you wish you could see past the visage of apathy
I'm afraid that intrusion would Pierce the illusion and make some allusion to my hopeless delusion

It's just not meant to be if I want to preserve this perfection
It's not worth it to hope for a possible hint of affection
For the lack thereof still is some kind of perverted connection
To the victim of pages of prose and projection
The girl with the golden eyes

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