Silent Memories

Through His Eyes (18/4/24)

Through his eyes
Is a cup, handed to him
Personally. And so he sips.
And so he chokes,
Only finding the poison after every last drop.

Through his eyes
Is a hand, offered to him
Personally. And so he holds.
And so he struggles,
Only finding the grip too tight after his fingers are too entangled.

Through his eyes
Is a flower, gifted to him
Personally. And so he touches.
And so he bleeds,
Only discovering the thorns before the petals crumble to dust.

Through his eyes
Is a mirror, placed by them all
Personally. And so he watches.
And so he cries,
Only finding the image they all saw too.

Through is eyes
Is a storm cloud, looming over him
Eternally. And so he waits.
And so he no longer can wait,
And prays for rain to pour.

Through his eyes
Is a girl, walking over to him
Personally. And so she smiles.
And so he smiles,
Leaving the storm cloud to drift away.

Through his eyes
Is a cup, with a heart drawn on
Personally. And so he drinks.
And so he laughs,
No deceit, no secrets, no lies.

Through his eyes
Is a hand, placed in his own
Personally. And so she holds.
And so he grips,
Finding only soft skin and blue skies.

Through his eyes
Is a flower, picked for him
Personally. And so he waters.
And so he grows,
Watching as it blossoms rather than dies.

Through his eyes
Is a mirror, placed by her
Personally. And so they watch.
And so they kiss,
Both visible in its reflection, stripped of disguise.

Through his eyes
Is a path, from one heart to another.
There are holes in the ground,
And sometimes he thinks he will fall.
But if he only trusted the place he came from
Could he journey to the place he wanted to go
Sometimes he just needs a soft hand and blue skies.
Sometimes we all need a soft hand and blue skies.

And that is now what he sees.
This is there, through his eyes.