These eyes

These Eyes

These Eyes

These eyes. The eyes that watch you today will not be the same tomorrow. The light of my soul that gives you shine will go out; and your figure of today, tomorrow, will not exist.

My fires will fail and, if I am lucky, it will not be through death. My loves and my illusions will burn out, and with them, you too will cease to be. We are only as important as the love we are given.

No matter what we think we are worth; in this meat market, inflation is real. The self-perception of your value does not grant you that importance automatically.

Seriously: my eyes will go dark. And with them, your presence. You will no longer be the spark that ignites the life I place on you, nor the hope that keeps you alive. Time runs out. From exhaustion. From gloom and sadness. There are no more tears to grease those beacons that once gave you a reason to exist.

«Empty eyes», you told me one day; and even then, my light reflected in your essence. The fires that light my soul will go out, and with them, your existence will cease.

Felix Perez-Cuza Florida, December 7, 2025

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