I have looked in many eyes,

lying close to the other

I might have loved.

I have admired my eyes,

in their eyes,

or shied away but,

never was I lost.

You are strikingly familiar,

but the stories are so similar, that I hear

from the hush-hush of the streets.

You have lost your color,

but painstakingly,

your essence

still sticks on my hand.