Did you know that your eyes are the exact color of the sky in winter?
Your smile is warm, and you welcome the world with your laugh and your practiced words,
But your eyes...are just like ice.
I once fell into them.
Your manners and your starched collars crept into my subconscious and knocked me flat on my back.
I spent my time looking down at your polished shoes, my face too hot to lift up and meet your's,
So how could I have known that your eyes were so cold?
The way your expression changes when you greet someone is too inviting, far too friendly,
To not draw attention away from the brisk, arctic air emanating from you.
If the eyes are the window to the soul, I pity St. Peter,
Who at the Gates of Heaven, will see only your soul-
Not your neatly pressed sweaters, or your perfect, straight teeth-
And have to witness the damage you have inflicted up your self,
From years of seeing only the surface of everyone around you, and never bothering to look beneath it.
I hate myself for being like you.
I changed so that I don't freeze anyone to death the way you do.
You don't bother changing me back,
But you beckon, and mock me for the conscience you gave me.
If what's inside you is worse than what I see in your eyes,
I don't want to know you.