Untold Secrets thru my eyes

Look me in the eyes,

And tell me what you see.

Can you read between the lines?

Sense the tension and energy,

That I so desperately try to hide,

Cause I know how I can be.

My vulnerability should come visibly advertised,

With a disclaimer that reads “Parental advisory”,

Second thought more like “viewer discretion is advised”.

When you gaze into my eyes,

There should be no surprise,

Cause it’s a window into my soul and all that’s classified.

Or so I believe…

It’s the only part of me,

That doesn’t know how to lie,

Nor has it learnt how to deceive.

That’s why every time you come around,

I try to play cool, as if I have nothing to lose.

But inevitably I’ve found,

These brownies I have for eyes always let me down,

have me looking like a fool, so uncool,

Cause they light up for you regardless of what I do.

You’ll walk into a room, and I can instantly feel the spark.

It’s a natural shift, I have no control and even if I did,

The way you hit the mark, with every single remark…

Makes me think I ought to let my eyes speak up for me and say all the bits,

That are left unsaid with words that linger in the dark.

They gleam just for you; cause only you can get me this hyped.

I wish I knew I wasn’t your type,

Or had a crystal ball to prove we’re not right.

Erase it all and make me go blind,

So that I could move on and hyper fixate on something called pride.

Get these eyes to finally pipe down.

Yet that’s not the case, my body language has a mind of its own.

Always gets me caught up in a crossfire,

Between the words that I speak and the way that I roam.

Nothing aligns with what my heart desires.

Not my words or tone.

You must trust I don’t condone, and I’d rather pursue Mr. Jones.

Silly heart is stuck with the wrong end of the wishbone.

Guess who vocalizes those desires with no hesitation?

You got it! These bold, audacious way too vivacious eyes,

Who seem to believe they can just go and disclose my heart’s location.

God, I wish I could cut their means of communication.

There’d be less complications.

Like why is that I can’t make things match.

I’m so easy to read at times, like an open book,

Yet so difficult to understand (reminds me of great novels and a catch 22).

I’ll say anything to appear detached.

Can’t be out here looking shook, and I can see how that may have you confused as fuck.

Like “I don’t care” or “I don’t need you near”,

Meanwhile they shout, “please stay here” or “my heart still holds you dear”.

Needless to say, only you can make a girl want to disappear and reappear.

Like a magician’s hat, except there’s no bunny with long white ears.

Instead, you get me, as I try to hold back my fears and shift the right gears.

If only you knew how for you, I’m a doll, that makes you the puppeteer.

If only you knew just how much is in here or here,

I’m pretty sure everything would be crystal clear.

But until then I’ll fake it until I make it all finally cohere