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.
