Cried out eyes.

You know the ones.
Red rimmed, prickling.
Heavy yet light.
They blur the edges between...
Well, between practically everything.
Your mouth may say joy,
But your eyes won't comply.
Your soul has drained out,
And lingers on your lashes.
In your hair.
On your fingertips.
At the very peak of your nose.
And you only really stop,
When you've shed so much,
You've forgotten what it means to be happy.