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We spoke of instances to beEnjoyed in between kisses andSoft embraces, promisedNothing, expectedNothing.Though now we linger in anInconformity where trustIs the anchor andStorm.It was your eyes that held onTo me, aLook ever so pleading forComfort, forHelp...Reflecting my own tears.It was your eyes, notYour skin, notYour lips,Your omission ofWords.The imperfection thatEnthralled, none of it,But your eyes.Even now we speakIn silence,You cover your face,But I know what restsBehind those walls,For I hide it just as well.I see pain.zakrevski.tumblr.com