Eyes

Your eyes speak about the
ounces of history they have seen.
They lure the darkness inside and
yet makes you the light of the empty nights.
I see them blinking as if they try
to hide the secrets of lives.
And when they look straight into the others’ eye,
they whisper the screams of sadness they guard with the lashes that act as the claws of a knight.
Somehow it makes them intimidating with the raging wars, burning fire or rising storms.
But all I see is the yearn for warmth that
melts these chains where she herself hides.
The longer I stare, I drown in the ocean
created from her cries.
All I wanna do is open the gates and let it flood her world until they are empty and fill them with hope.
And yet here I’m, helplessly gazing
at the most beautiful eyes
resting on the museum wall
shining for the million sights.