Gaze into my eyes.
Blue flecked prisms, glossed-over, and shifting to faint colorless orbs.
Like a chameleon, my eyes change with my mood. From cerulean to gray, turquoise to azure, my eyes are the mood ring to my soul.
Passion builds my eyes to the brightest of blue, sorrow — to silver. Blue-green splashes like the Mediterranean as tears fall from my eyes. A mix of purple and gray while empathizing with another soul. Eyes gone black are worth the blazing consequence of desire; I will whisper into your ear. Gray is melancholy, fading into numb.
Eyes wilted, from bright to dull. Washed out and muted, clouded with the weight of bills and stress. Dissolved into the demands of parenting, meal planning and the certainty of living a mediocre life.
There is a perpetuation of sadness, joy, and intensity built into these marbled blue eyes. A roaring and passionate heart leak through each tangled look. Sometimes sparks fly from my eyes, catching the world on fire. Other times, only a dull gray frost settles inside.
Today my eyes are faded. Listless and dispirited.
Perhaps it is the darkness of the winter sky which is stealing the glint from my eyes. Or the crisp cutting rain, washing away my mystical baby blues. Possibly, I am caught up in normality, and the paralysis of life. The drab reality of day-to-day, the fading of my enthusiasms.
They say the eyes are the window to the soul.
My eyes are the doorway to my heart. If you look close, you will view an ambiance inside the cyaneous tone. A girl who has become a woman fighting to survive. Bent, bruised, tested and pushed, I have spent a lifetime fighting demons and slaying the impropriety of my thoughts.
Some days, the natural force of a tide full of bitterness, drags me back into the damage I carry in my heart. I wade in pools of self-pity, hoping the sun will burn away the pressure I put on my spirit. However, I have days in which I would rather taste the bitter salt that drowns my desire than stand up and fight on my own. These are the days; I am a little tarnished. Battered by thoughts, and withered into gray.
The cerulean is beginning to wane. My blue eyes, switch to gray.
I notice they don’t sparkle like they used to, as I peer into a steam covered mirror. I wonder if they have dulled over time, or if the depression I swallow is in actuality ripping the color from my heart. Cutting away shards of icy blue with every hot tear — boiling its way out of the tasteless tedium inside me.
Brilliant crystalline jewels once shined from my sights; I warmed faces with an innocent glance, sparks flew from these speckled blue and shimmering spheres. Even the deepest of blue water didn’t compare to the passion intensified through the blue of my eyes.
Still, today as I wipe the steam away from the mirror, the monotony of life washes over my profile. Deadened by meticulous daily tasks, I note the emptiness which is peering back at me. Serenity turned somber, as the color in my eyes evaporates.
Faded blue frost settles inside me, but I will burn it away. Eventually, the fire in my eyes will flash, and that dull gray frost will melt.
But today, I am faded to gray.