There's a reason they call them the window into your soul

There's a reason they call
them the window into your soul

Clapping laughing
smiling dancing

but your eyes

hand me the map

with secret entrances

and which walls were
skimped on to cut costs
at the end.

your eyes
give me the schematics
to every weapon
in your arsenal

and the access codes
to your armory.

They beg me

not to let on,

So I make silly faces
in the hopes that

your next smile
will be real,

even as your eyes,
pale as the bay
on a good day,

tell me the minimal chances
of that.