The blue green curls of mako eyes,
The way they look as you pass me by,
The shine the shimmer,
The truth they hold,
Their secrets for me and will never be told.
The colour inside as black as my soul,
The truth and feeling that never grows old.
Your to pure to have gone through so much.
But you still have that gentle touch.
You crave for my love,
Sometimes to much,
I don’t have myriad but I give just enough.
I feel barren, used and gone,
As all of my love has been passed on.
I need some back but not to much,
As long as I can still have your gentle touch.
Your flowers and candy and holding hands,
All this does is make me sad.
For a true love is one that cares,
The one that says he will always be there,
A love to which no-one can compare,
My reason, my only,
The mako eyes.
It’s the way they look as they pass me by.