Pale blue eyes,
Pear at me from deep depths unknown,
They are the eyes of my history,
They can tell me
everything,
But they like to hide what I want to know,
They can tell what I cannot see,
But they don’t process like I do,
Nothing that is seen in those eyes is good luck,
Instead they only wait,
Waiting to be surprised.

Those blue eyes watch me,
The watery essence that they control,
Is solid,
Icy,
Something that I can never crack,
They seam to be above me,
Above what I stand for,
They are not earthly,
They hold something beyond me,
Something that I could never hold,
Or reach into
They are the eyes of my soul.