more like a dirty, blue-green hue.
"Get contacts," I pleaded. "Make
your eyes true blue."
"You don't understand me," he
replied. "You haven't a clue."
I grew to hate him, and that is true.
At night I slipped out, to look
for someone new.
Someone more suited to my
taste; someone with broad
shoulders and small, trim waist.
Someone tall, dark and handsome,
With a beautiful smile--
and eyes true blue.