The noise of your eyes,
It’s far too loud.
And thus I look away.

Her eyes are filled with gloom,
And screams,
For someone to notice the noise.
I block my ears.

His eyes are filled with passion,
A promise for a future,
But his passion turns too strong,
Over things not to be passionate for.
I refuse to fuel that fire.

My eyes are almost quiet,
A whisper in an empty house.
Longing.
And yet you see the whispers ache.
You hear,
And fuel the dying fires of my heart.
And whisper back to me words I do not need to hear.
For I feel them too.