Your eyes shine,
Like the moon’s pure reflection,
Hope they’ll be mine,
Don’t want perfection.

Your hair is the victim,
In these cases of feelings.
I’ve got all the symptoms,
Now I’m just bleeding,

From all the emotions,
Made from your presence,
If you felt your potence,
They’d only be remnants,

Of what I see in you,
Beauty in disguise.
But I’ve got the views,
You’ve got the eyes.

I found your loss,
I felt your pain,
Mine’s a different cause,
But I still wear the stains.

They say eyes aren’t important,
Just spheres made of glass.
But I love their orbit,
I feel their mass.