Exchanging Love Letters

She caught my eye, and plucked it from my face
and kept it in a glass jar on her desk.
At night she placed it under her pillow
and said it lulled her to sweet dreams of me.
(The nature of these dreams I never knew).

Compassioned by my cries of blinding pain,
she ripped her own eye from its socket
and eased it into the gaping hole that wept
so bitterly, yet could not weep, replacing sight.
(Replacing it with her love, she said).

My blood soon seeped into her gift and
stained it crimson. I could not see,
but with my own remaining eye I met her gaze;
her face was wet with blood and tears.
(Although they couldn't drown her smile).

I asked her why, and she told me she had never seen
such perfect eyes as mine. Greed, the seventh sin
of seven, and Love, the eighth such sin (a turncoat),
admired my mismatched eyes. Pain is magnetising.
(We will never forget each other now, she said).