It wasn't your eyeliner though,
but the sentiment matters to me
Often when I miss your eyes peering into mine
I hold my phone out to write poetry
This way, I can see the eye and believe
Come hell or highwater ,
I should steel my nerves
Remind myself of shunning bitterness
That loving someone can often yield
Somewhere where you thumbs curl on his
As you are pushed against the wall
Amidst a shallow yet lustful kiss
I would know it, for we are tied at the soul
I wish to be that him, for at such my heart caves in
So here I am, back again staring at the eye
Past the mild digression of this verse I scribe
Another one to be unread, let alone felt or understood
Knowing that you spare no thought to my love
Or maybe your soul fights the very thought of me
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