Dark Brown Eyes.

I’ve adopted new ways to see your eye colors. Because dark brown eyes aren’t quite like the others and we’re quite common. While you became my roots, I stayed trying to quietly shelter us in our own way- exactly the way the soil whispers to the roots of everything tall and fragile. I planted a rose when I was 10, and I remember my father told me that a crucial ingredient for flowers to grow is love above all else. Our rose maybe twisted but oh, the petals were always so red.

I started out writing poems for something I didn’t know what to call. Something I could and couldn’t call just love. And you know something that has always bothered me? When anyone would try to become philosophical and would ask me about love. I would say that all love is the same— let me explain.

Throughout your life, you’re always going to love people, you’ll always fall in love in some mysterious way. A simple hello, a goodbye, a poke, a silent smile, a photo, or even a small note to add to your story. Isn’t this love? So when I say that all love is the same, it rings true.

My heart beats to the rhythm of the adrenaline when I want to kiss you. It’s insane and sad, mostly. And that doesn’t change. We may have never, but my fingers  long to follow yours like old paintings searching for god amongst religion, as if man can find all of his answers while alive. That too, guys, doesn’t change.

I’ve been searching for a way out through my scribbled wall, poems, and writings like this, and I’ve encountered gold by merely the thought of you reading this. How I imagine your eyes shifting slyly with these words. So I can say I’ve known every type of love with you, and they all feel the same.

Every I love you that has ever left my lips, all transformed into an eternity of chasing and longing.

You are a different kind of happy, maybe it’s because a part of who I used to be is still there. Beauty is still a weakness of mine and intelligence has to sit pretty high. If all flowers are the same, we’re creating hybrids that don’t sit well with the rest of the world. We know I can run out of ways to love myself, I can run out of ways to love you— but as long as we’re still here, the sun can shine a little longer, and maybe this warmth will make sense.

We’re all alive and here, maybe we’ve got a purpose and all of this searching means something. To all of the days that I couldn’t hold you while you were crying, this is my chance to tell you that I’ll be here until the sun is no more.

I may have not been there at times, I may have been bland as well, and maybe you may have distanced yourself. If this is the cause of my own heartbreak, at least this time, I get to choose it. If this is poison, let it be the finest. If we love with this is passion, let it be ripe and ready for the picking, if this is the love we read in the books you made me read, let it be the only way that I want to be loved. And if this is us, let it be our first kiss. Because in a world where the lines are blurry, at least I’ve got you. Because in a place where we’re slowly dying, I can feel my heartbeat across the raining seas and the storming eyes like in the poetry you wrote.

You aren’t just another pair of dark brown eyes, you’re our pair of dark brown eyes.