Girl with a Pearl Earring
Alexandra Atkinson
It’s true what they say. The first thing you notice of a person is their eyes.
Hers were a whirlpool of exquisite torture that pulled you in
and spit you out like sunflower seeds sunflower seeds
picked from the beds of buttery yellow petals that painted the cloth
tied around her head, encasing her innocence.
Her face bare of any impurities, looking back at you
and seemingly holding the answers to questions you wish to ask
but can’t seem to find the voice to.
Her pearl earring shines as if it is winking at you,
as if it knows of the turmoil raging in your mind.
As if it knows of every secret you hold
As if it’s anything other than just an earring
hanging off her ear.
Her. A nameless artifact lost in the museum of mind.
Who is she? She is just a girl with a pearl earring.
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