he doesn’t like the color of his eyes (but I do).
probably because they’re brown, the most common colored eyes,
but he (obviously) doesn’t see what I see.

they are beautiful.

they say so much, with so little,
especially when his face remains expressionless.
I like to watch them shift and change,
morphing as light ripples across them,
and adjusting when different emotions scuttle behind his irises;
it’s adorable how he presses his lips together, trying to
remain impassive when he’s trying (and probably succeeding) to trick me,

but it’s heartbreaking

to watch him suppress irritation (an art I have sadly not learned),
only to see how he really feels locked behind lidded bars.

but what i love most about his eyes
is how they look when
he tells me he loves me,

because even as his face remains smooth and collected,
his eyes run wild;
they grow wide with anticipation, as if holding a shred of fear
that he won’t hear the
same words
from my mouth.

but then,
they flush with this odd light.
it’s warmth
made tangible in his deep caramel eyes, and I realize he’s looking at me
in a way no one has looked at me before.

it almost makes me believe he loves me more…


almost.

XO- Magz.