her eyes were never the color of my coffee that started my day
they were never the shade of honey when the light found them
never that rushing color of falling leaves in the middle of autumn that made you hope for something special
they were never all the things i found in them, comparing each fleck of color to something beautiful
after all, they were just brown
you will accept that you cannot romanticize the past. you can’t paint a picture you will wish you never let go of. she hurt you. she would’ve tried if she loved you so