We feed off of each other's anxiety.
The pain
in our eyes...
It fills us.
Fills us with satisfaction.
When you're
nice,
and helpful.
My eyes swell
with the pain of a thousand balloons
about to be popped.
You watch
and it only seems to inspire you
to act this way
more often.
Our relationship,
If we even have one,
Is bitter sweet.
And my heart burns
knowing
I'll never be able to call you mine.
YOU ARE READING
you killed my flower
Poetryi hate the way your eyes can manipulate me. poems about his eyes and other things.
