the color of love’s eyes
i had not ever known love to be warm. in what world have i walked through where love was ever a pacifier? all love carried weight. i know not the color of love’s eyes. i can claim the color of love’s eyes is a deep blue, knowing of the love i have for myself. even so, that perspective of love holds inconsistencies. love was not called mother. how could you label that love? love like that was thrown onto me, and it it was heavy. then again, i could argue that love is always heavy. that love is the most painful feeling in the world but also the contrary, and those who seek the thrill of the highs gave love a positive reputation. sometimes i truly believe love is the purest form of art, in which everyone’s visions and feelings of love differ. infinitely. every single embodiment is different. in which case, how do you go about finding love? through the color of love’s eyes? what was it, by the way? they were brown. until they weren’t. i know the color of love’s eyes to be hazel through the weight i carry on for her. lastly, i feel i may not know the color of love’s eyes only because it scares me to see it in yours. the denial of the wounded. perhaps my perception of love can grow, and the color of love’s eyes will be those that resonate with mine. a love that is known to be warm. once introduced to love with an aura of silk, all i could do was defend my ground. had i let love in even once more, i do not know if i would ever be able to feel love without the blindness of being wounded. by love that was nothing but heavy. as i come closer to completely surrendering that weight, and being able to lie myself down beside you, just know that love’s eyes are the color of your room. your spirit, the blooms in your body. i know you will capture me in the moment of realizing the color of love’s eyes is the color of yours.