And I just don't understand
your anger or your sadness.
I just cant seem to tell
which one is which.
Your emotions appear jumbled
and smeared.
Like a child's artwork
made from colorful finger painting.
Or like DNA,
connected and twisted,
intertwined in an extraordinary fashion.
And I just can't seem to decipher..
are your sea green eyes
filled with sadness or anger?
Whether its the former or the latter,
it really doesn't matter
because I see the passion
that lies within the sea green of confusion.
So whether its anger or sadness,
or the smeared colors of both,
you feel it greatly,
and deeply,
so passionately.

And now that I see
the strong feelings
within those eyes,
the feelings that are
barely capable of withstanding
the edges of your irises;
the color of emotion
dying to overflow
and bleed into the whites of your eyes.
I see passion
I see feeling.
And I notice a feeling within myself too
-the first feeling felt in months-
trickle down my spine
and burn within my heart.
Jealousy.

I am overwhelmed with it.
I am drowning in it.
But I don't mind.
Because at least I am feeling it;
feeling something, anything,
after not being able to for so long.
Yet this jealousy I feel,
this new and foreign feeling
that I am certainly enduring,
has coincidentally come
in response to your own feelings
that I found within those sea green eyes you wear.
Those sea green eyes
with secrets swimming within,
daring me to stare just another second longer.
And I do, I stare,
for just a second longer.
And I feel the jealousy rise
for the thing that I envy
is whatever you are feeling,
and whatever you are thinking,
as I have been numb
from thoughts
and feelings
and emotions
for much too long.
The numbness rising
in overwhelming ocean waves
of the darkest shade of blue.
So different to the passionate
sea green of your eyes.

So whether it be anger
or sadness,
or the smeared and scribbled painting of both
in shades of red and green and blue,
I envy them.
I envy you
and your DNA models
of anger and sadness,
and their perfect connection
constructed within unique perfection.
Or maybe imperfection
would be more acceptable
due to the fact that
our minds are quite
unapproachable
unreachable
unstoppable.
Impossible.