it's the way you look towards the sky
eyes that burn like fires
irises the color of polished gold
that keep me alive
living, breathing for the shades
it's the way you paint the human mind
with aesthetics that rival Salvador Dali
bursts of orange and timber
with just a piece of the sea
stuck in the corner of your right eye
i lived for the day
that our hair turned gray
and our bodies withered away
but your eyes remain vibrant
with searing speckles and streaks
like liquid gold and honey
i wouldn't die
until your eyes faded away
and all the color was burnt
YOU ARE READING
What's Wrong
Poetrysome of these might not make sense but trust me neither does my mind
