You eyes are the colour of I-don’t-know. Somewhere between this chocolate brown and coal black. No matter how hard I stare, I can’t figure it out. But when the light hits them just right, I can see right into them. Not into your soul. Souls are not what lay behind eyes. Eyes aren’t the windows to souls. Eyes are the doorways to the path that winds around the spectrum of your life.
When I look into your eyes, I can see everything you’ve seen. I can see memories upon memories, piled into the realms of your mind. I can see the small smile you get when you pick a flower, the crinkle of your nose when you catch a snowflake on your tongue, the tears glistening in your eyes when you just don’t feel like you amount to what you should.
I can see your laughter dancing across your ribs, and up your back. I can see giggles seeping from your lips. I can see pain stitched across your cheeks. The years will carve your face, structuring it so it can hold more. I can see tears stained into the skin. Tears that have dried, tears that have been wiped away. Tears that you have forgotten and ones that you have not. I can see the things you did not want to see on your lashes, each one long and beautiful, framing your view with things you want to forget.
I can see the ink life has spun across you, in intricate lines, and delicate swirls. Paint brush strokes of beauty that came from your madness, across your torso. I can see every secret you have whispered, laid across your arms, and every promise you have broken stretched along your collarbone. I can see the shadows of your future, creeping up your legs.
You’re not perfect. And that’s ok.
You will make mistakes. And that’s ok.
But I’m here to make sure you don’t make the same ones I did.
Your eyes are the colour of I-don’t-know. And I’d like to keep it that way so I can keep looking.