Eyes of Mine

To the boy
who wears the eyes of mine

All with the dark circle underneath the bags
crinkles at the corner of the almond shape ends

I recognize this faint obsession
When I keep records of what you have said and done
When I begin to translate your tiny movements into poetry

Nothing can ever go wrong about you
Tousled bushy hair that you hate so much
The freckles on your skin
Your voice roars in default, I cannot blame
Because far worse, I dislike your quiet

To the boy
who wears the eyes of mine

Tell me, what it feels like to be adored?
Because I have never had somebody watch the arch of my back
The way I watch yours

I am counting hope and despair with fingers, clasps open
till the remaining days that will drive us closer or further apart
till then there is no winning or losing

I hope you are not shy enough to raise the glass for me,
this is for another toast
to foolish delicious infatuation
I am about to embark voluntarily


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