What I Miss The Most
the blue behind your eye is the kind of sadness
where with one glance, i can see past your eyes
just like watching the white clouds idly pass by, it
moves little by little without making it known and
when i try not to blink while examining your features in
fear of missing a single detail— i know that underneath
your concealer, you’ve carefully hidden the kind
of blue where your eyes cannot afford to show.
the wet stains behind your darkening bags, the
swollen lids on top of painful styes, and
don’t think i haven’t noticed because it’s
like watching the white clouds idly pass by, condensing
into something beautiful at the expense of its own
evaporation, carefully waiting to shine at golden hour until
precipitation calls it back home.
the blue behind your eye is the kind where my eye
tries to comfort it with enough love that it turns
yellow, the rightful color of what your laughter
used to sound like and what
i miss hearing the most.
