When I lay down on my bed around 12 am I turn to the side and stare at a wall. It was a white wall, until a hint of my coffee splattered on it. So when I turn to look at that wall, day or night, it always reminds me of your eyes. Brown, with a pinch of milk in it. So I live on, with a white wall that has some coffee on it, next to me, and not you.