i thought i knew
what your eyes looked like
even when their longing has faded.
there are no eyes like yours,
and no eyes like mine,
that's why i was so sure
i knew.
and there are eyes that die
because they're empty,
and devoid of light.
maybe because
it was stolen, or
maybe because
it was snuffed,
but mine was willingly given
away in the hopes of brightening yours
—the fact that our eyes
mirror each other, now,
is no fault of mine, perhaps
you'll understand why
my eyes
are dry —
i shed no tear for what's
no longer mine.
— A. P.
YOU ARE READING
Accidents: A Collection of Poetry
PoetryIt's like learning a new tongue; like befriending an unfamiliar book, and finding love expressed in a million different languages that I cannot understand nor explain. - you have kept me awake for far too long Antoinette Prescott, 2016 "Accidents" i...
