His Eyes

Getting lost in the infinite worries of his days,

In the pain he hides deep inside from his past,

that of which he keeps safe in the blue of his eyes.

His secret, his story, never to be told,

Too painful, too sad to soil the mind.

His gorgeous face, soft lips, not a trace of a wrinkle to be found,

Leaves your mind in a trance, not wondering or caring why the utter splendor seems so wrong. 

Why such a fool as myself adjures the challenge to see him as he is, to see him...differently.

Why I dare question the fake beauty there for a reason no doubt!

Of course I can't simply see what he wants me to see, what all others accept without fail...

I try to see through this faultless facade,

Attempt to break through the thin bubble protecting me from his unknown sorrows.

Staring, pleading with all that I could muster up through each vein and nerve in my fragile existence, pouring it all now into my eyes for him to see...

My curiosity,

Now overflowing...

O' the dangers he protects from all, some hero he wishes to be?

His mysterious aura and secretive glares only add more anticipation to the game I am making,

Peaking my interest, pouring endless worries from my heart.

Utter shock, the integrity, modesty, purity that one could miss,

In plain sight he stares, not hiding much at all.

The candor of his eyes now oozing their dark, slimy, cloud of pain into mine.

Why this leaves me breathless and yet dumbly asking for more...

My drug now becomes the hatred of pain and the need to heal him from his scars.

O' the mysterious workings of the mind that control emotions and perceptions, 

Contorting a view to see what you want to see.

No longer do I question. No longer do I wonder.

Now I only shrink back in shock and in horror,

Not wanting to know, not wanting to see, yet not I'm hooked,

For the ache of hunger I have developed of this knowledge must now be fed.

His eyes hold me steady and show the sores he wishes to hide and the joy he wants to accept.

The seemingly infinite blue pools of dancing sapphires and jade gleaming under the dark side of the moon,

The simplistic beauty of battered injury he keeps marauding in his soul.

Yet what I failed to see 'till then,

No profound secrets are hidden here!

The mutilations he clenches are not itching and crawling to break through the thin layer of flawless skin as I had previously... foolishly assumed.

Rather the cage has already been broken and the agony- free and rampant.

The trouble from a thousand years in a young man's eyes for all to see and heed warning,

Yet all miss the admonition in search of a more complex justification.

How pure is the innocence and exquisiteness of his eyes resting on me!

How pained I am for starring too deep too long.

Now to understand the troubles of an old, wise man,

Trapped inside the false shield of beauty,

Yearning to be understood,

To shout to all of humanity;

Yet he is held back by the wise pain in his eyes.