The way his eyes pierced my soul through the screen…

The same eyes that one reminded me of sunny, summer afternoons, were a raging sea. 

Full of so much pain.

And it was all my fault.

It replays in my head every time I close my eyes,

When they’re open, the imagine burns and begs to be seen.

The wall, close to robins egg blue, with visible bumps.

His fingers on his head, in his pale blond hair.

His torso bent over in his gamer chair.

His face, slightly red, flushed from crying.

But his eyes.

His eyes held so much hurt,

Overflowing with tears. 

I don’t know why it’s burned so permanently in my brain,

I couldn’t bear the image in the first place.

But hopelessly, like a bug in a spider’s hand-crafted web,

The image is stuck in my own self-made prison.