Eyes that can talk

What do people see when they look directly into my eyes?
Supposedly, the eyes are the mirror of the soul; the eyes speak a truth that the mouth cannot put into words. When I am talking, rambling or whispering to someone, do my eyes tell the same story as I do?

You stared directly into my eyes, my soul and so much more. We talked about irrelevant things. How pretty the stars were. How cold the wind was. How sad it was that you had to leave already.
Did my eyes tell you that I wanted you to stay? Did they tell you that even though the stars were beautiful, all I could look at was you? And that the wind or how cold it was did not matter as long as I was outside, away from the crow, with you?
I hope they did. But I was not able to look into yours. Your dark eyes seemed shut though they were wide open. You were looking at me, but I was not able to look at you in that way. I was in awe of your presence, your warmth and your funny irrelevant remarks. Even if your eyes had answered that Yes, you wanted to stay, to talk and to listen, I would not have been able to read that. I only listened to the words, not to the glances, blinks and stares. Not yet.
And then you went.
Off into the starry, windy night.
Farther away from the crowd inside,
but even farther away from me.