october eyes, 2013.

you always did have october eyes.

somber eyes,

careful eyes,

plan-brewing eyes.

you shut your cage around me

with a kiss that stole midnight

and now I know why they call it lip lock.

if I had known lips were capable of locking

I would've had a spare key made

to prove that friday nights don't control me

and october eyes can't catch me off guard.

I would've had a spare key made to untangle you from my web,

but you would've proven that you know the way out.

you always did know the way out.

september had me swooning

but october stole my sentences,

and then went in for my secrets.

october stole my secrets 

in a lockbox containing thursday's lies

and friday's mistakes.

and I always believed we were part of the same puzzle

but you were the puzzler

and I was the piece

waiting for you to place me 

wherever you saw fit.

you are on a list of last year's mistakes,

wearing glasses over your october eyes

to hide the side effects of november

and december

and january.

just another kiss

that I reverted to draft

because some mistakes aren't worth mention.

but

hold tight to your confidence,

it's expiring as soon as the tides shift

and the weather turns

and all the girls with forever eyes realize 

you'll only hold out for the month.