There's something special about
your eyes.

Not the way they shine,
when you talk about the things you love.

Not the way they glitter,
when tears are rushing down your cheeks.

Not even when they light up,
with every word you spit out.

No,
There's something about

how they look in a never ending void,
when you're dead.

And I regret nothing,
except the past we share.