the thing i love most about you is your eyes.
oh, you're the cleverest person i know,
and no one can tear their eyes from your smile,
but your eyes see my soul.

the day we met,
you asked me why i was sad.
i was confused.
my black mask never failed.
but somehow,
your eyes saw right through.
you were the first
the only
the one who saw me.

my parents took three months to see the scars.
they sent me to therapy.
i hated the pink therapist,
with her fake-white smile
and her bleach-blonde hair.
her blue contact lenses
and her fluffy white cardigan.
She didn't understand.

what fixed me was you,
pushing up my black sleeve two days after we met,
running your long, paint stained fingers
gently across the silvery scars
and the fresh red cuts
and looking at me sadly
with your beautiful, colourful eyes.
you told me
don't, love.
you're worth more than that.
and so i didn't.

every time your eyes meet mine
my heart skips a beat.
and i flush red.
i can't describe the colour,
and i know every colour name,
from midnight black
to titanium white,
from deep sap green
to bright crimson red lake.

you're different.
your eyes are the only thing
in the whole world
that exact colour.
i can't describe them
because you can't imagine a colour
that no one but those who know you
will ever see.

when i paint you,
they take some yellow, a little white,
lots of pale green
a streak of dark blue
and some pink.
even then, it's not perfect.
someday i'll get it right.

the thing i love most about you is your eyes.
oh, you're the cleverest person i know,
and no one can tear their eyes from your smile,
but your eyes see my soul.

no one has ever cared enough to look for it before.