Of thirty-six pairs ever to exist
Within black market circulation, one
Belonged to you, their jars caressed and kissed
Before a tragedy left you with none.
You reminisce, you glimpse them in your dream,
And once when you awake you see them loom
Above your bed, but it is only him —
Your bodyguard who never leaves your room.
He asks what makes you toss and turn at night
So you reveal your yearning for the eyes
With irises cast in a scarlet light;
His tightened fist shows he can empathize.
You shall not rest until that wondrous gift
Returns, and until then you'll be adrift.