07/28/2012 03:59 pm ET

TEEN POETRY: 'Your Eyes'

This is a regular column featuring original poetry and fiction by and for teens, provided by Figment.com, an online community writing site for young people.

By Domi

Your eyes,
rimmed with the bruises of a night sky
the metallic glint of stars in the corners
where I have never seen tears.

Your eyes,
widened in every picture I have of us
the sun-washed blue of them
pale against the bruises of a night sky
with stars in the center of the pupil
where the camera flash left its scar
your eyes were scarred last winter
miniscule rivulets of blood trailing along
your eyes.

You don’t sleep
but stare at the bruises of a night sky
and compare the even tone of the one
to the ones on your heart.
Your heart crimson like your eyes last winter
but at least it still beats
it has rhythm and life
regardless of how much you press on it
to suppress its beats
it thrives somehow
adding the color to
your eyes,
staring at mine like a promise.

Promise you will
remember the thirty blocks we walked
with the bridge in the corners of
your eyes,
dry and wide and bruised like my knuckles
holding your hand while I asked you for help
like you never do.

Your eyes
are rimmed in secrets too
things you are not willing to say
holding your breath
until it freezes blue in
your eyes.

Your eyes
tuck their secrets away
behind shutters
(the clicks of camera shutters
freezing you in a photograph)
the single image I will always remember
is your black coat, your back,
hunched like a child in my lap
falling asleep on a bus
one broken half of headphones trailing to the ground
we littered in candy wrappers
your small hands handing me candy wrappers
your eyes asking the bruises of the sky outside
to hand you something too
but my hands are empty
they always are because they
can’t give what you need to be given
my hands press the corners of my eyes
in frustration with you

my hands
hold a curl of your hair
and hope someone else will
because my words are not enough
biased you think they lie
a friend telling a friend
one thing and another
but we want truth from only certain people
believing it’s only truth once they confess it.
Your eyes confess less
tucking secrets away behind shutters
while you keep walking
(while you keep walking the world keeps spinning)
you are graceful slender and poised
and I remember your small hands
inside your pockets

your black coat, your back,
hunched like a child in my lap
and you were breaking
the posture, breaking
the dawn cracking the sky
and its bruises like skin
the sun being red
red rivulets in your eyes
and I’m begging you to sleep
because those are the only words
I allow myself to say
as you ask me quietly
what’s wrong
and I am good, I am good now,
because of you.

But you,
you are too pretty to deserve this mess
you deserve to be ripped from your roots
a tree holding on to what poisons it
a flower waiting to bloom and unfurl its petals
you have blossoms in your eyes
your eyes,
blue like they hold secrets
like they hold love some people will never know
because they are too scared of you and your strength
your strength forgets itself
it needs to be scarred
with stars for once
let go the shattered glass its made of now
grow in shatters like they tell me to.

Your shatters I don’t understand and I won’t
but you need to understand
that you are a constellation of your own
your every bone connected to the air
the air vibrates around you
because you are so pretty
so pretty and tired and you don’t understand
that I am just worried
worried even when there is nothing left to worry about
and you need to understand
that you are a constellation of my sky

you and your laughter,
you are little pin-pricks of light
that these words cannot give justice
your laughter,
thirty blocks,
your head on my shoulder,
thirty blocks,
it’s not worth it remind me it’s not worth it
you are worth so much more
than I think you know
adjusting limits and time

and you are brilliant,
like a constellation
like your smile
like you, brilliant like only you,
your good intentions
your solid star of a heart
scarred with constellations
of our laughter.

Your poise, your posture,
strength keeping your spine
so straight you will grow wings
you have grown wings
that have constellations of words
that don’t exist in this language
the language that limits your strength
the strength that is unlimited by bones and muscle
and it beats like your heart with your wings
as blue as your eyes
and you will never be bruised, you never really were.

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