What goes on behind those dark eyes?
What do you think I'm not seeing? Is it your constant perplexed gaze every time you hear me doubt myself? Is it the way your eyebrows raise every time you tell me how much you love me? Is it the way I catch you glancing at me with soft, meadowy eyes behind your stone gaze? Maybe it's just the way you constantly stare at me when you think I'm not looking.
Maybe those are the little things that draw me to you. Maybe those are the huge things that make all of the difference.
Either way, I know those meadows made of dark roses that are intertwined in a shadowy maze are always leading to me.
I wander your maze and I see what you think I don't. I see every little, big thing.
YOU ARE READING
•Mind on Paper•
PoetryThis is going to be a collection of late night thoughts and spurs of inspiration for your viewing pleasure. Some of these could be happy, sad, melancholic, and much more. My brain is the brush, the paper, or in this case the screen is my canvas. I...
