My eyes were never blue.
They were always green—
the color of forests after rain,
the place where sunlight goes to rest,
where dreams once learned my name.
But somewhere between the tides
and the storms I never spoke of,
something quietly changed.
Not the color in my eyes…
but the reflection behind them.
The ocean taught me its language.
The moon taught me how to hide my tears.
The stars watched as I gathered pieces
of the heart I gave away too freely.
People say eyes tell the truth.
Maybe that’s why mine look different now.
Because green eyes don’t turn blue.
They simply carry the weight of oceans,
the sadness of forgotten waves,
and the memories of every goodbye.
Still…
beneath the blue they think they see,
the green remains.
Waiting for the sun.
Waiting for spring.
Waiting to remember
that it was always beautiful.
