emotions

emotions
sometimes boil over,
like the milk on the stove
still there,
simmering,
rising,
hissing,
reminding me
that I do have eyes
suddenly gone blind
in the glare
of other things
more important,
and yet,
when I still can't
reach them in time,
they overflow
onto the hearth,
demanding more eyes,
readying me
for a second chance,
to show me how
I don't need special eyes,
I only need to want
to keep them open
all the time,
so they can light up
the hearth,
with their undivided,
unrelenting
attention
to what is.