fall into my eyes

Before the anniversaries comes the boredom,
the boredom that turns into dislike which soon can turn into hatred.
But not a strong, fully fledged, hatred.
Just a level one.
Needless to say, it's there.
It's what keeps the romantic getaways from ever appearing,
the "Congratulations on making it another year with them,"
the "I love you so much it hurts," comments,
and even the cute sappy pictures together.
The stupid boredom keeps it all.
It keeps all the potential hidden in a room, where it will never see the rays of care.

Or maybe it's not the boredom.
Could it be fear?
Not close.
It's the boredom. The lack of interest.
The lack of a constant spark.
It's a flame that disappears entirely when the trees dance.

The spark has been there before, but in unwanted eyes.
Eyes that didn't see.
What good are eyes that don't see or sparks that can't make fire?
What a pity.