His eyes are something you never wanted to look away from.
They are a gift from anonymous that you refused to share.
They sparkled at his passions. When excitement would wash over his face and his mind would race and you couldn't catch a sentence because ADHD was chasing after his tongue so he had to go fast.
But that sparkle was different from when they welled up with defeat. When his head would fall and his voice quivered and the sight could make you shiver. To see someone so low that you wanted to lift so high.
But that swollen glaze was not the same as his rage. Those red veins webbed with hatred and you did not want to be in his way. He was staring through you and his eyes might as well have been ruby red.
But those veins weren't the same as when he was high. When the smoke left his lips and the glaze grazed his eyes. And the red veins pulsed slowly and his eyes were barely open.
But that lulled look was not the same as when he was tired. When his 6 feet was curled into a ball and he would talk real low. "I wanna go sleepy nonies." And his eyes would start to close.
Ive studied his looks and I'm still learning them all. But none of them compared to when he would look at me. Those big doe eyes clear as day brown as brown could be.
And I've suddenly fell in love with that color. No I couldn't compare it to the sky or the fresh blades of grass but nothing could fit that brown. Nothing seemed so beautiful nor innocent. Nothing could be as perfect.