My lover would write about my eyes

My lover would write about my eyes,
Oh, how vividly he’d remember them;
“Just looking at them would burden you with tons of bruises followed by utter hopelessness.”
My lover would write about my eyes,
About how frequently they fooled people with dejection disguised as insincere joy and inauthentic glimmer;
He would describe them as unfaithful, fraudulent,
π•―π–Šπ–ˆπ–Šπ–Žπ–™π–‹π–šπ–‘ π–‡π–šπ–™ π–šπ–“π–™π–Šπ–’π–•π–™π–Žπ–“π–Œ,
And a never-ending hollowness of desperation;
Oh, how he would beg me, to let it all out and put it up on display;
Oh, how I would smile at him, pretending to have no conscience about his distress over my peace of mind.

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