your eyes betray your heart

 

your eyes (betray your

heart) even when you

turn them away

like leaves (falling) that can’t help

but shiver when the wind sighs

across them (softly)

 

speaking louder than your mouth

saying nothing at all

in neat (polite) ribbons,

knotted between

the cracks of your ghostly

(unspoken) truths

left on the table

(untouched)

like an empty plate

 

yet (oh), love

the way you smile (a half-light)

as if it’s enough

to mask the

echo in your chest, the

pause just before your breath

breaks itself apart

 

even when you turn away

(as though distance could

make your pulse quieter)

your eyes cannot lie;

they flicker (they ache)

like the edges of a candle flame

caught in a breeze that isn’t

strong enough to extinguish it

 

oh

how they tell me

what your lips will never say:

that you—(here, now)—

are waiting for

something

to let go

(but not today, no)

 

and so we sit

in this fragile stillness

(you on one side

of your silence

me

on the other)

 

until

at last,

when night comes pressing its

cool fingers against the sky,

you will

(briefly) look

at me again,

and in that moment

the truth will flare like lightning

between us

(bright and

impossible to ignore)

before you blink and

turn away again

 

leaving (only) the sound of

your heart

betraying itself

in the quiet space

between breaths

​

s. paul (Sept. 2024