They say the eyes
are the window to the soul,
but looking into your eyes,
I am often confronted with
the reality of living agony,
for your face may not show it,
but darling, your eyes are weary,
heavy with guilt,
filled with selfish desires,
and a lust like I’d never seen before,
they show not your fears
but your hate,
they reflect not your heart
but your disgust for living,
for life,
for death,
for everything,
even though I do not
see your soul through your eyes,
I can see the next best thing,
the darkness,
the abyss,
the nothingness,
I can see the end of me.
