Bedroom Eyes

I never asked her what she meant
and if given the chance
I’d make sure I didn’t
present me wrestling with past
to keep the mystery alive

Not that it was mysterious
a compliment delivered at an age
when true mystery
lies in our own obliviousity
which hindsight makes bare

It’s still nice not knowing
holding out hope that the adult
is so very wrong
that our lenses are empty
glasses put on to hide tired eyes

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