Amber eyes cannot be eaten, yet I find myself starved for a love that heavy.
The creature has eyes like polished amber. I promised myself I would stay objective, but I find myself naming it after my mother. I hope it never leaves.
I trace the gold flecks in your iris and realize my hunger is only for the quiet way you hold my gaze.
Fields the transaction did not carry are omitted. Open the payload to see the bytes as stored.
1P1DvDw3TrBvFruwnWTAWowY1E6aZtXgdE VerifiedThat sounds poetic but my shift ends in two hours and I would trade all the gold in your eyes for a lukewarm breakfast burrito right now.
