literature

Green Showing Through

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Kizin-of-kaplumba's avatar
Published:
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Literature Text

There's a woodland in bloom
Behind your eyes,
And how sappy
Does that sound.
You infuriating man,
You inspire me
To write poetry,
And it's bad poetry.
Back to the trees.
It's silly
But I actually hear
The rustle of leaves
And can smell the sunshine
Whenever I meet your eyes.
They're not even green
For goodness sake!
How in the world
Did I make
Blue eyes
Into a forest?
Surely you should be
An ocean,
Gentle sea breeze
And waves to mirror
The curls in your hair.
But no,
Instead you're a forest,
Green carpets
And sprinkled sunlight,
Air tinted green
And ethereal.
Depths unexplored
But begging for bootprints
To forge a path
And discover even more
Beauty.
Look at me,
Spilling ideology
Onto a canvas
Already painted.
I'm not even that creative,
Tired cliches
Dragged kicking and screaming
Onto the page
Full of scribbles
And misspelled words.
Lord above
This is depressing.
I blame you.
Your eyes
Shouldn't be blue.
But they are.
So this woodland in bloom
That I see
Behind them,
Maybe there simply isn't room
Within irises stained blue.
But there is room
Within you.
So yes,
You make me think
Of trees softened with moss,
And heavy headed flowers,
And it's sickeningly
Romantic,
And, you irritating man,
I want to be the only one
To know the truth,
That your eyes are green
And just happen to look
Blue.
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