your eyes when you look at me, they are hard to describe.
they do not squint, they do not harden, they do not narrow, they
somehow tighten but in mirth, yet still with sadness, and it's sadness at me
as if i give you Joy and Pain as burdens to bear as a gift unexpected but necessary, once you understood the undertaking, accepted its presence.
not quite a white elephant but almost.
and your eyes, they almost overbrim with kindness, and so i must worry that maybe you are sad because you see that soon you can no longer be kind to me.
maybe the Joy brought the mirth but the Pain brought the sadness and maybe you are saying the bargain-basement version of The Words to me because you know that to say anything more will make the future parting that you have planned more depressing than having not heard the words at all.
and maybe you could carry both the Joy and the Pain for a while, but soon they will become too heavy.
and you will lighten your load by gifting me back to the world that gave me to you.