“You’re a mess of wonderful is what you are,” she slurs on her teeth, practically hissing at my eyes, “but your eyes, your eyes, they’re much too monotonous and my blue eyes need a pair of blue eyes, like an ocean needs to sea.” So I stop and burn all the letters of endearment that never meant anything to you it seems. My brown eyes are meek, and yours so blue and powerful, with an undertoe that could swallow up a million hearts without regret.