Your eyes can speak volumes; they are a form of communication whenever you don’t have the right words. Or any words for that matter. They can show emotion ranging from one end of the spectrum to the other.
They give away the sadness that you’ve been hiding from your friends whenever you have been crying and your glossed-over eyes are now red and puffy around the waterline. They light up whenever you start to talk about something you are passionate about. They dilate whenever you see someone you are attracted to. Our eyes are the only thing that doesn’t change as we grow older.
The eyes can sing stories. They can be ocean blue, mahogany brown, forest green, a hazel terrain. They can glow like a fire or they can be as dull as a brick. You can see the color of leaves, the very hue of life. You can look into the eyes and see a speck of sun gleaming. You write poems where you compare the eyes of your lover’s as those of an angel. The eyes light up; they are alive, dancing, and burning. They almost remind you of home as you stare at them and see a starry, warm night under Friday night lights.
Or those eyes can be salty. Those stories they sing can make the heart weep. They can scream drizzled dreaming, puddled potential, melted rebellion. When you see that lover with the angel eyes in the bed with another, they are the eyes that threaten to abandon you. They are the eyes that pierce the atmosphere. The eyes can scream help whenever the words cannot physically come out. They reveal all the pain and suffering that you have been holding back.
Your eyes can give your best friend the look of panic whenever a strange man approaches you. They can roll practically into the back of your head whenever your mom yells at you to fold your clothes. They can make eye-contact with the attractive person sitting across the room as you hesitantly glance back over periodically. They can get as wide as saucers whenever you passed the test that you were so certain you failed.
Your eyes can squeeze shut so tight, as you are a small child blocking out a scary sight. Your eyes close as you tell a story the fills your body with dread. You can blink your eyes, look up, and everyone is 25 years older.
Our eyes can portray so much. No matter what we are trying to hold back from the world, our eyes will always speak regardless of how we try to front. At the end of the day, the eyes are the window to the soul, which is why some are full of life whereas others’ are empty. No matter how much you insist you feel nothing, your eyes tell everything. I call it a betrayal of looks.
The divine artist really dipped his brush into soul and used it to paint the eyes.
