When I look at the sun as it settles under the horizon, I feel the end has come and peace I shall find until the hour the sun rises. Just then I’ll be thrilled at the thought of the fresh unexplored time in front of these sleepy eyes of mine.
The last time I saw her, she had fire in her eyes.
That’ll teach her to play with matches!
She said unto the star-barren new-moon sky: “Night – be my eyes, so that I may see beyond the limits of that which sunlight reveals.” She screamed and hissed and writhed in the searing pain of the acid she splashed into her own eyes, but she welcomed the eternal honesty of an infinite darkness.
As he squeezed her hand and looked deep into her eyes, she wondered if it was only her eyes he could see, or if he was able to look through them and into the dark lair where she kept her secrets hidden.
She blinked a couple times and looked away, an innocent smile on her face, deceptively stealing interest in the beauty of their surroundings, not yet ready for her eyes to plead guilty.
In front of me were two of the most brilliantly shining stars I had ever seen.
They were in your eyes.
Sometimes my eyes roll back into my head. What I see there always frightens me.
As her eyes rolled into the back of her head, she screamed, “DONT ANSWER THE DOOR!”
I awoke suddenly, heart pounding in my chest and I realised, it was the doorbell that had woken me.
“I’ve forgotten to turn off the car lights yet again” I think and reach for the car keys. Then I realize that in the darkness outside my window no rear lights are glowing, but two red eyes staring at me.
Her lips said “Hi”. Her eyes said “Goodbye”.
For the amusement of my friends, I declared a staring contest with the first statue we came to at the wax museum; “best two out of three,” I said.
Everything went downhill after I won the first round.
They told me they had lost the keys to every room on the 13th floor. It also appeared that they had replaced the peepholes with one-way mirrors, I used to think.
Ever since he was a boy, he had an undying passion for a woman’s beautiful eyes. Now on his deathbed, he insists that his collection of 300 pairs of eyes be buried with him.
You finish cleaning the soap out of your eyes, that’s when you hear a whisper telling you not to turn around.
Suddenly darkness descended upon him, choking out the formerly burning pain. Next time he went motorcycling, James was sure to remember eye protection.
Diana looked up from her biology homework to stare at her mother, tears welling up in her bright green eyes. “Your eyes are blue and Dad’s are brown, so who in the hell’s my real father?”