We spoke of instances to be Enjoyed in between kisses and Soft embraces, promised Nothing, expected Nothing. Though now we linger in an Inconformity where trust Is the anchor and Storm. It was your eyes that held on To me, a Look ever so pleading for Comfort, for Help... Reflecting my own tears. It was your eyes, not Your skin, not Your lips, Your omission of Words. The imperfection that Enthralled, none of it, But your eyes. Even now we speak In silence, You cover your face, But I know what rests Behind those walls, For I hide it just as well. I see pain. zakrevski.tumblr.com
