No I don’t see the stars in your eyes
No galaxies, universe, cluster, nebula.
We have plain eyes, homely,
You and I.
Mine’s brown, but seems black,
Brown, only in the light.
Yours must be black I think
Or maybe not
Never seen them close enough.
That’s funny!
Here I am making poetry,
About you,
And I don’t know the colour of your eyes.
Did you think this was an ode to your eyes?
A love poem?
I thought so too, when I began.
But your eyes don’t fascinate me
Like Romeo’s did to Juliet.
Or Anna and Will
In Notting Hill.
Never seen it?
That’s wretched!
We don’t even watch the same movies.
True, I agree that’s hardly a requisite,
But at least you should have known
That I love that movie.
I am sorry.
You breathe,
But you’re not a poem.
Not my poem.
My poem must breathe
In and out whole galaxies, universes, cluster, nebulae.
And I don’t see it in your eyes.
Even though its mostly black,
The colour of the night
When stars seem bright,
Brighter,brightest.
(I believe I’ll never see it in Anyone’s eyes
Because that’s bullshit.
But sometimes I love it
When I’m proved wrong.
Utterly and undisputedly wrong.)
So it’s for the best,
I’ll never look close enough
To find
The colour of your eyes,
Black , brown or anything else.