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.
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