eyes

rusted eyes

those beautiful eyes
the way the sunlight hit them in the mornings
the way they looked when they were staring,
when they bothered to pay attention to anyone
they rarely did, poor things were always distracted by pretty things
like skies. mesmerizingly beautiful, under-appreciated skies.
and pretty art with aesthetic themes, and color schemes that actually looked good.
and pretty people, most of all.
but their definition of pretty was different.
for instance, they'd always stare at me, distracted.
or my art.
even at the sky behind me.
their definition of pretty was definitely not the normal one.
because I wasn't pretty, and my art wasn't pretty either.
but the sky might have been.
I'd glance up at them, narrow my eyes the tiniest bit, because for the love of god, I can't focus when such pretty eyes are staring at me.
they'd grin and I'd huff. then I'd return to my drawing.
I often had to finish drawings at home when this happened, away from those stupid, rusted eyes. they were quite pretty, though.

I didn't mind them much, 'cept when I was trying to get something done.
they were actually quite nice.

( a/n: it's kinda short, oops. I don't know when I'll update next. I'll try to update soon but my birthday is on Sunday (March 13) and I'll prolly be busy...)