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After Five Years Six Months Three Weeks And Twenty Days
#WritcoPoemPrompt15
You see the reflection of your own happiness. In his eyes,
Picture perfect
Like a bouquet of posies,
Like a sky full of sunshine
But still stubbornly there is a foggy gray to them,
In the once recognizable eyes now was a hazy blur of washed sooty colours.
Bleeding as one, following the pupils curve you see the coneflower shade to them.
(And the bags under that)
He grins mischievously, truly like an older brother about to get into trouble, as he opens his mouth to speak. No noise comes out.
He looks like a brother.
—Scratch that—he looks like your brother.
The one who seemingly left, eons ago to never return.
'yet, here he is!' Your mind bullys you into believing. Because he's right there, on the other side of the counter, pressing buttons on the cash register....
You see the reflection of your own happiness. In his eyes,
Picture perfect
Like a bouquet of posies,
Like a sky full of sunshine
But still stubbornly there is a foggy gray to them,
In the once recognizable eyes now was a hazy blur of washed sooty colours.
Bleeding as one, following the pupils curve you see the coneflower shade to them.
(And the bags under that)
He grins mischievously, truly like an older brother about to get into trouble, as he opens his mouth to speak. No noise comes out.
He looks like a brother.
—Scratch that—he looks like your brother.
The one who seemingly left, eons ago to never return.
'yet, here he is!' Your mind bullys you into believing. Because he's right there, on the other side of the counter, pressing buttons on the cash register....
