Eyes, Chico, never lie, but sometimes I wish they could weave stories
Eyes, Chico, never lie, but sometimes I wish they could weave stories,
In the depths of your eyes, where love once danced like a shining star,
Now there's only a pale shadow, a name carved in the sand of time,
Your eyes no longer sparkle, I see the hidden storms,
Contempt and confusion, wounds hidden like treasures in the depths,
How could I turn my gaze from this mirror of the soul? Tell me, was I hard to love?
Was I hard to love?
I watch the flowers blooming in the trees,
That sight like a field of stars, with the dove nestled between constellations,
Now it reminds me of your skin, velvety like flower petals, and I want to know—
Was I hard to love?
I see a cat, its eyes gleaming like two lost moons,
As it watches me from a distance, from an unseen throne,
Now I'm fascinated by thoughts of your eyes, and I'd like to know—
Was I hard to love?
I hear the wind, its whispers are forgotten songs,
Carrying echoes of words we wove like an enchanted carpet,
Now its murmur reminds me of your voice, a silver river flowing gently, and I'd like to know—
Was I hard to love?
I see the waves crashing against the shore,
Their rhythm is a dance of sirens, a story told by the sea,
Now I remember your hair, flowing like turbulent rivers, and I need to know—
Was I hard to love?
I catch the gleam of sunlight filtering through clouds,
Its light embraces the world like a golden veil,
Now it mirrors your smile, a guiding lighthouse, and I'd like to know—
Was I hard to love?
I feel the earth beneath my feet,
Its constant rhythm, an old heart beating under the stars,
And yet, in its silence, your absence grows like a long shadow,
And I can't help but ask—
Was I hard to love?
Copyright ©
Dan Enache
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