What did you do to your eyes, she asks, they used to be blue like the sky, filled with pure hunger like quicklime, but now your eyes are full of grey indifference whenever they look at me and your hands lie motionless and untouchable against the table. Your love is old, I know, and I am old, but so is the sky, and there is no reason for your eyes to be so grey. No reason at all.

June, 2010