That's the first thing I see.
Every morning, when I open my eyes, I am met by those blue ones.
Their deepness makes me feel like I haven't woken up at all, like I'm still floating peacefully
in that unconscious slumber where nothing haunts me.
Not all nights are that good and when I wake up from the recurring nightmares,
gasping into awareness, I'm glad to see those blue gates of comfort.
The look they give is so soft, so full of compassion, that all of the shivers those horrid pictures have left in me, slip away.
And on those nights, as I cling onto his shirt like its the last connection I have to earth, those blue eyes show a new type of caring.
It softens his entire face and makes him look like the puppy dog he sometimes is.
He's my puppy dog. Neither of us says it out loud,
we don't need to.
It's the nights we share together, the way we breath each other in, that speak for themselves.
It's every morning when we wake up, limbs tangled together, that say what we don't dare.
It's just the simple fact, that every time we kiss, when our lips press together, I feel complete.
And as we brake apart the blue eyes sparkle like the cloudless sky.
And no matter what happens in my fucked up life,
there's always one thing I can call mine.
It's him and those
bright blue eyes.