Your eyes

There’s nothing sweeter than the thought of your

   Looking at me with those unshallow eyes,

And knowing that they’ll always see the true,

   Forgiving all the smooth self-serving lies

I tell myself, and all the faults behind them.

   I wish I had your charity.  I tend

To feel regret and blame, and then rewind them

   Into a loop of shame without an end.

But your forgiveness gives me pride—it tells

   Me that I have a worth I cannot see,

And makes a heaven out of what is hell’s

   Claim on my soul: that I deserve to be

      Unloved, unmourned—a soul who never dreamed

      Or hoped—till in your eyes I was redeemed.

 

Copyright 2015 Matthew J Wells