Eyes?

I found my eyes. Shocking, in a way. I'd left them lying, somewhere.

I could no longer avoid.

The pain of hope.
The torment of possibilities.

The gift is loved.
Not the gifted one.
Exile.
Fugitive.

A little bit of sleep would go a long way here.

The sounds of sirens,
echo in warmth.
Gratifying,
to know.

Love is unjust: Justice is loveless.

Soon doubled,
our mortality.
One will see the other die.
By marrying, we double deal,
the cards of hope and fear reveal:
that was then.
This is the real.