Eyes don't lie.
A year after, or near,
and still they speak volumes
more than lips or words
every time those sparkling depths
are turned upon me.
And that's why I avoid your eyes;
I know what you'll see here -
the flame, the torment, the hope.
And you know that I avoid your eyes
because it's all still there, resurfacing
whenever you are near.

Eyes don't lie.
And so mine seek some other safety,
the wall, the ground, our hands.
I push to the back of my mind
that night when sparks flew uncontrolled
and the "what if's"
and the fact that you're now free.
But we both know that these feelings,
hiding behind my eyelids
must simply fade and go unacknowledged -
if anything, shade the light in your eyes
for it just makes me realize all over again
and I risk losing the ground I've won.

Eyes don't lie.
And that's why mine
must never meet and hold with yours,
or this lie to myself and the world
would fall apart.
You pretend that you still don't know -
and maybe, like him, you don't know it all.
But I know if he saw your gaze upon me,
that look that I have glimpsed before,
the one that pierces me to my very core,
he wouldn't be long in seeing our hearts
in our eyes and his abandoned on the ground.
I know I shouldn't allow myself
to even think about it.
You should know it, too.

04/29/2002

Posted on 04/29/2002
Copyright © 2025 Amanda J Cobb