Episode 61: His Eyes Poetry ASMR 18+

God, his eyes. They are not merely color and light, not simply iris and pupil and reflection. They are weather systems. They are midnight oceans swallowing the moon whole and still asking for more. When he looks at me it is not a glance. It is an arrival. As if something ancient in him recognizes something trembling in me. As if his gaze says, There you are. I have been looking for you in every crowded room since before I knew your name. His eyes do not shine. They burn. Not with cruelty. With hunger. With ache. With that unbearable tenderness that makes my ribs feel too small to house my heart. When he softens, when the edges of him dissolve, there is a quiet in his eyes that feels like being chosen without condition. And when desire slips in, slow, molten, his pupils darken like ink spilled into water, like night folding over the last breath of dusk. I swear I have seen galaxies there. Entire constellations collapsing just to make room for the way he looks at me like I am something sacred, something dangerous, something he wants to ruin gently with devotion. His eyes undo me. They trace my mouth before he kisses it. They memorize my skin before his hands arrive. They speak in a language older than touch, a silent confession that says, If you fall, fall here. If you break, break open in front of me. If you love, love without armor. And the terrifying thing is, I would. For those eyes, I would unlearn fear. I would surrender every carefully guarded corner. I would let myself be seen in the raw, trembling light of his gaze. Because when he looks at me, truly looks, I am not ordinary. I am not small. I am not forgotten. I am wanted.Written by https://www.threads.com/@thriftygirl365 This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit anureetwrites.substack.com