The Light Is Always On the Inside

Her brown eyes

were fireflies 

in disguise.

Only lighting up after dark.

I stayed up all night to memorise their flame.

I can still see the white light

behind my eyes 

whenever I close them

.

The light is always on the inside.

But when I wake up to this

never ending December world-

I am met with

 endless violets printed on rough yellow paper 

lining my smoke-filled, four walled room

that suddenly seems endless

to my lovelorn heart.

What good is rain on an iron heart?

You thought it  would wash away the dust.

You thought flowers would bloom here.

But everything turned to rust.