We all make fun of your eyes,
but that only gives me another excuse to gaze upon them.
I can't help but get lost in your eyes, so full of life and beauty.
You don't need eyes that glow like the sky or shine as emeralds caught in the sun's rays.
Your eyes are unique to you,
telling stories like a intriguing book.
I always seem to lose myself in your chapters.
Your eyes speak volumes!
One day you write the exciting tales of the sale down the drag, and the next- an epic on your love for your fans(perhaps dedicated to yours truly?).
I constantly await the new encounters; checking my laggy phone for updates on the scene,
your stories are always on my mind.
I feel like I know you.
After all, I've reread all of your stories thus far.
Can I help you write your next chapter?
Can I be your co-author?
Your glances make me want to read more,
and your absences are the worst cliffhangers- my heart drops when you leave and a dull pain ensues when there isn't a promise of tomorrow.
I dread the day "to be continued" turns into
The End.

Are you worth the trouble that I provoke?
Unbalanced, uneven, unequally yoked.
I feel the lull every night, even as you fall asleep.
You nap there in silence. I lay in misery.
Do I love her too much, is such a thing so? Should I gauge my burning passions for this girl I know?
Limit my affections because the scales are tipped? Dial down the flame, cover it up, and smother it?

How foolish we were
to believe we could last.
You would concur
after considering our past.
But it hurts nonetheless babe,
Here without you and our foolishness.

You open up a box and it's a 5000 piece puzzle.
"Cool", you think as you look quizzically at the mass of printed cardboard in front of you.
"How can I figure this out... Ah yes! Start with the edges. Let's build the base and build up from there."
You spend your time building this puzzle, carefully calculating each placement.
Sometimes you are wrong and it doesn't fit- sometimes you sit there in agony trying to figure out your next move. But in the end, you know this work will be worth it.
But along the way, your pieces get scattered and you lose one. No, not lost, but destroyed. Broken. Irreplaceable.
You hold onto it thinking "this *****" but continue to build on. This piece wont matter much now.
I can deal with it later.
Time passes and your hand continues to hover past that broken piece that will never find it's place right in your puzzle.
You still stumble here and there after more time passes, and you forget about that neglected piece.
You are down to the last and final piece. You are done!! but wait... where is that broken piece?
WHAT DID YOU DO WITH IT?
You frantically look for it and wonder why you didn't take care of it when it first broke. "Why am I feeling this horror now? After all, the break happened so long ago, and I didn't even notice that it was gone.
Why is that hole in my beautiful masterpiece growing bigger?
Why is that hole ******* up the beauty around it and disrupting my peace?
What, where?!
Piece?..
No. That piece is gone."

That peace is gone.

What do you do when you know you messed up?
When trying isn't enough, knowing it doesn't matter how much you try to love.
Though you push and shove, thinking it started out as fun, and you find now you are pointing something at yourself - a gun.
How did it come to this and why can't I go back?
They say ignorance is bliss- A fact?
I cannot accept that.
Service is why I was put on this earth, and now I feel lower than the dirt after hurting someone I care about: someone I miss seeing around.
I want to climb a mountain and scream out loud, "I'm sorry _" and tumble down.
You deserve much better than this.
You will be missed.
Take care and know, I will always be there.

Where are you going, where have you been?
The scars tell me you have a story- How did you end up so broken?