Never look into their eyes.
For they will take you to a world
unlike this one, where the
sweet nothings that you whisper
in my ear are obsolete.
Where the flowers on my doorstep
are delivered by a postman
wearing black in mourning.
Where the teacups that we sipped from,
and the cigarettes we smoked,
are burning in a pit,
with all the treasures of our cradling hands.
Where the papers that we wrote on,
and the newspapers we read,
are torn to bits and falling gently from the sky,
showering us with wistful words.
Where the graveyard weeps
and the tombstones sink into the ground,
under the roots of their caressing trees.
Their eyelashes envelop a flailing sun that
once beamed bright onto our innocence.
Never look into their eyes.
You will see our fear.