I can't seem to look at anything without thinking of you, anymore. Your eyes…they are in front of me wherever I go, no matter what I do, I think of your eyes and your grim smile.
Those eyes…what have you painted them with, my love? What kind of contacts could be so opaque? Whatever you've done to your eyes, you've made a shield for them. A wall to smother the already dying flame inside. I can see it, while others look away when you make eye contact, I look deeply to catch as much of the heat radiating from inside as I can.
Your eyes…just the beginning. From the inside out, your aura is dark. Dark angel, with your dark eyes and dark ways. What have you done to make yourself so dark, love?
Some want to know you to be like, but I see the other side of you with more color, and so much potential. I want to help you grow, can't you see? No matter the things that have made you so morose, we must focus on the now, and what we can do differently.
I can tell you're beautiful in there, behind the hard, solid eyes. Beyond the desire to be as terrible as your words, angel, you are just like the rest of us, and perhaps that isn't a bad thing.