The gateway to the soul..

Eyes; They say you can tell many things about a person just by looking at them. It's true. Microexpressions, and things like that, but in my case my eyes sold me out today. I was in the middle of writing a poem as my friend sat next to me, and though I was almost fully absorbed in writing it, I couldn't help but notice the way she was watching my facial expression. I paused for a second, and asked "What does my facial expression look like right now?" ..I knew how I felt, but what did she see?
"You look empty.."
"Like I have a hole?"
"Kinda, but it's a sad type of empty, like the look on your face was blank but you were deeply hurt.."

I was pretty surprised my eyes could say so much. It's true, I felt empty. The equivalent to the loss of a loved one. And here is how the poem read:

Sound is shifting all around me

so many thoughts shape my surroundings

and my soul passes the edge of change

as intentions and feelings rearrange

I watch you study the look on my face

but the sight of this sent my mind into space

because my artistic depiction of who you were

has left this world as an unsettling blur

your eyes decieve your sly innocence;

to you, my ambiguities less than makes sense

from me, a mix of expression pours out

still, their true stems I fearfully doubt

Those following monthes my fears were depleted

and my old insecurities were torn to pieces

the way you lead me across stark nightmares..

new peace caught my heart; unaware,shocked,unprepared.

Slowly, we eased out of their expectations

and carved our hand-made portrait

with tools of love, and passion made to last

eager dreams singing how these days would never pass

Again now I'm sitting, just alone with memories

A hidden admirer, found way too forgiving

after those words caused the clock to start ticking;

each stolen glance settled on what the future was bringing

New uneasyness distorted our perception of fate

seperating our bond, once built through mere faith

we played the cards we were given

but only ended up as their victim

Now, though I wish I could reclaim the day,

we're too well aware that things can't be the same

I study your eyes, which you don't see

You're lost to me here, but we'll meet again in dreams.

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