He spoke like heaven opening; the parting of his lips split her like ripened sugarcane.
“These aren’t words,” she thought, “They are mirrors. And his mouth is filled with them.”
You could pull shadows from his eyes, one after another, and watch his gaze go from black to gray, and he would never blink.
But sometimes he would smile. A small, almost-sad smile.
She collected him, if only to see what was hidden on the other side of it.
This one I liked very much.