The Man With No Name

The man with no name.

 

Its in his eyes.

The darkness in the depth.

The darkness that leaks out with every blink.

And yet with every blink shoots in some light filling up the void.

I’ve met the man who has no name.

Its in his eyes.

In the flecks of gold in the sun.

In the speckled shades of a starry evening.

In the dark tint of a moonless night.

I’ve met the man who has no name.

Its in his eyes.

In the quick cover ups.

In the easy laughter.

In the unbridled passion.

Ive met the man who has no name.

Its in his eyes.

In the fear I see for me.

In the love that flickers suddenly.

In the slips that let the secrets spill.

Ive met the man who has no name.

Its in his eyes.

In the mirth of every moment.

In the little things that make them shine.

In the tears that never fall out.

Ive met the man who has no name.

Its in his eyes.

The truest part of him.

The most raw.

The most uncontrolled.

Ive met the man who has no name.

Its in his eyes.

His lips may lie.

So may his soul.

But his eyes tell the stories untold.

Ive met the man who has no name.

 

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