Unburied Treasure

Beer bottle shards of
Spun cerulean and heckling jade
Line the shore of my inner ocean.
A sunken graveyard of eyes I remember softening
And being softened by;
Their sharp edges worn down to smooth stone as
My waves caressed them until
They were no longer volatile.
I believed they were precious
Because they came from dark depths
Where I heard beautiful beasts must lie.
I have seen every pair of eyes
With the wax and wane of tides
But only yours I feel
Have edges not unlike my own:
Easy at points
But too jagged for a firm grip to hold.
A maudlin sepia mottled with sea glass green
Opaque as if lit from behind
Closed screens of lids,
Hiding soft embers of burnt sienna emeralds from the world.