The weakness

And let's have a conversation about your eyes. 

Those I first refused to memorise. As I knew that if I could define the tone of your pupil, I would have fallen into a madness that would have been fatal. And I knew that my intoxication was in the truth and that I was never able to stop my weak knees before pretty eyes.

Yours had this subtle movement of following your lips, they seemed to be the ones who were guided in the dance. Between one to three nanoseconds too late and you missed it. Although if one saw it, they could notice it.

I didn't have to see the rising of a corner to know that you were laughing at me. It was all in the dark nights, I could understand from your closed eyes and a glued smile that not everything was what it seemed. And you had the tic of looking from left to right before crossing a red light.

Of blinking and eyebrows, you weren’t very good at it. You had a fault that came from childhood. 

You couldn't close one eye without falling into blindness, and the blinking was messy and you were tired of it. 

You were a photo with half-opened eyes, that you tried to film and you couldn't. 

You were my three times blind for not understanding dirt and you saw only the tone of your eyes.

They also moved with your noses, they were like an animated cartoon, the fox and the hound. They seemed dependent on the nose like on the lips, they were an orchestra. 

If your mouth made a face, your nose followed and your eyes fulfilled.

You were adorable and funny to see, in that way in which one bites his lips and feels palpitations in his chest. It was heartbreakingly easy to fall.

Your eyes were open and clear to see. They were present in your photos and if one said your name at midnight it’s the first thing one would remember.

They would become a secret that I won’t be able to pronounce and leave buried. They would be the reasons why love has no end.

T.A.