sometimes, more than sometimes, but not as often as everyday,
i think about how those eyes you have consumed me,
the way their darkness was in complete contrast to the light you expelled,
and i think about how they would linger into my deep green eyes,
often that look was a wash of colour, but yet it was a pool of feeling,
i felt your love in that look, in those eyes, no matter how many times
they broke the colour so quickly that everything was bland, i felt it in the way
you would smile like your eyes were the ones that were hungry
and i wasn’t your prey, but i grew the light you would shine from, and
you grew the happiness i would have to bury, the tombstone that you carved broke into shards of colour all of which turned black when you cried yourself to sleep in the unholy grave that you made me dig.