Everyone I meet tells me they love my eyes

They tell me they’re gorgeous and how jealous they are. How they sparkle
They’re jealous of the eyes that see the world in a way of hopelessness?
The eyes that only see an occasional high in the sea of lows.
They’re jealous of the eyes that cry enough to keep a iris...
While there’s couldn’t keep a cactus alive.
They wouldn’t envy these eyes if they knew how many tears they’ve cried. Because they don’t sparkle always,
As soon as you walk away,
The sparkle turns into tears.
They tell me their jealous of my eyes but they don’t know what’s behind them.