Your eyes are the color of dirt,
Not very pretty, but full of life.
When you giggle, they get smaller
And turn into glittering beetle bugs.
When you’re angry, they harden,
Becoming slats of wood in your cherubic face.
And you seem so distant so often now,
Your muddy eyes staring right through me.
It hurts to know your looks are only for her,
To know that last year I was it,
And now those unpretty dirt eyes
Have found someone else to gaze upon.
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