Eyes That Speak the Truth
Poetry
Your lips were steady,
crafted lies wrapped in calm sentences,
each syllable smooth like polished stone —
but your eyes,
they told a different story.
Behind the mask of your voice,
I saw the cracks forming,
like lightning splitting the sky
in a storm you tried to deny.
You said you were fine,
that nothing lingered in the spaces between us,
but your gaze quivered,
like a leaf caught in the breeze,
betraying the weight you carried
beneath your careful words.
I watched the flicker in your irises,
the small tremors of doubt,
of fear,
of a love you couldn’t fully conceal,
no matter how much you tried to hide
behind well-rehearsed lines.
Your eyes,
they unraveled you —
bare, honest,
as if begging to be understood
while your mouth kept building walls.
And in that moment,
I knew the truth,
not from what you said,
but from the light that dimmed
and the sorrow that swelled
in the windows to your soul.
I couldn’t unsee it —
the way your pupils widened
at the mention of goodbye,
the silent plead woven in a glance,
a reflection of the love
you were too afraid to speak aloud.
So I stayed,
not because of the lies you told,
but because of the truth
your eyes couldn’t help but show.
