Unintentional (I told myself I was done)

There’s something in the silence of the room,

A pencil scratches on pages once bare.

Green eyes find it challenging not to stare,

And blue ones refusing to see her gloom.

 

The art abstract made her feel things denied,

Writing words that she never thought she could.

Her hand moved fast, her hair acts like a hood

Her mask helped her maintain her long term lie.

 

 

His glasses rested on top of his head�"

Keeping him blind to her reality.

He didn’t see her lips whisper his name.

 

She thought maybe her feelings would be dead

But sadly she was not as blind as he.

She didn’t volunteer to play this game.