For the longest time people said my eyes were black,
That is until I met you and you brought the color back.
They’re brown, you said, like earth after rain,
like something steady, carrying both joy and pain.
I didn’t know how much light they could hold,
how soft brown could burn brighter than gold.
You saw it even when I couldn’t see,
a thousand small fires quietly living in me.
But seasons turn, and sometimes so do hearts
what blooms in the spring still falls apart.
You’re gone now, and yet, somehow,
there’s still a little more color in me now.
Not as loud, not as wild, not as bright,
just a quiet warmth I keep through the night.
For the longest time they said my eyes were black…
I lost you, but I never lost that.
