Those two small and soul-touching black holes that appear only when I close my eyes shine with own glow. It's all about intensity. The remaining gray colour on its iris is fading every second gone. I can read they are waking up after a long, long sleep.
Light grass green arises and grows near the black borderline that clearly states where does the beautiful coloured space start and where does the sclera end. In between the border and the pupil, as if the rain had transmited the calm and tranquility the storm of their impulses leaves behind, some sweet blue lakes appear out of nothing like little spots on a butterfly's wings. Attractive brown explosions detonate as they win back the old strenght they used to have.
There's nothing just to appreciate, but to love.
Light grass green arises and grows near the black borderline that clearly states where does the beautiful coloured space start and where does the sclera end. In between the border and the pupil, as if the rain had transmited the calm and tranquility the storm of their impulses leaves behind, some sweet blue lakes appear out of nothing like little spots on a butterfly's wings. Attractive brown explosions detonate as they win back the old strenght they used to have.
There's nothing just to appreciate, but to love.
