In my eyes
Is the intensity of a thousand suns,
That burns with an undying passion.
They give me away;
Brutally honest traitors.
They cannot hide the brokenness in me.
But only through these windows can true happiness shine through.
They can be as hard as steel and as cold as ice,
Or a pastel sunset soft and bright.
They can be clear and vitalizing one moment,
And the next glassy and seemingly lifeless.
Apr 16, 2015
Apr 16, 2015 at 12:48 AM UTC
In my eyes
Is the intensity of a thousand suns,
That burns with an undying passion.
They give me away;
Brutally honest traitors.
They cannot hide the brokenness in me.
But only through these windows can true happiness shine through.
They can be as hard as steel and as cold as ice,
Or a pastel sunset soft and bright.
They can be clear and vitalizing one moment,
And the next glassy and seemingly lifeless.
Request permission to use this poem