I remember crying over you and I don’t mean a couple of tears and I’m blue. I’m talking about collapsing and screaming at the moon.
Have you ever seen brown eyes in the sun? You don’t always notice it at first but you’ll see that ‘brown’ no longer describes them. They melt into golden rays, circling an eclipse. There’s nothing boring about brown eyes, not even when the later hours encroach; they just turn into a sunset of their own.
I go through phases. Somedays I feel like the person I’m supposed to be, and then somedays, I turn into no one at all. There is both me and my silhouette. I hope that on the days you find me and all I am are darkened lines, you still are willing to be near me.