the writer and the muse

The girl with blue eyes.
Blinking, bold, big blue eyes.

These eyes were special.
They did many things.

  Observed.                      They confided.
      Laughed.                        They lied.
            Invited.                         They darted
           Avoided.                      They comforted.
   Trusted.                    They judged and forgave.

They reflected
         and protected
the inner workings of her rhythm.

But at times,
this girl's rhythm began drumming along to
        a more despondent beat.
A despondent beat
that brought about pools of tears
       that crowded and spilled from her
                two blue eyes.
Pools that brought about exhaustion.
Pools that brought about change.
            Change in her rhythm.
            Change in her eyes.

The girl with blue eyes.
Blinking, bold, big blue eyes.


Eyes that turned two shades bluer,
every time she cried. 

**Bright Lights and Cityscapes -- Sara Bareilles