Your eyes—
a cruel kind of beautiful.
Autumn would give up its gold
to hold that color.
Not leaves—
they fall too easily.
Yours don’t.
There’s a fire in them
that doesn’t burn out,
only watches—
patient, certain.
And when they turn to me,
the world doesn’t stop—
it just
loses its place.
Apr 27
Apr 27, 2026 at 3:44 PM UTC
Your eyes—
a cruel kind of beautiful.
Autumn would give up its gold
to hold that color.
Not leaves—
they fall too easily.
Yours don’t.
There’s a fire in them
that doesn’t burn out,
only watches—
patient, certain.
And when they turn to me,
the world doesn’t stop—
it just
loses its place.
Hiii it been a while hloo 😘
Have a good day sirrr...😉
