Artwork by: Prashil Pazare
Her eyes are windows,
But not to her soul…
Her eyes are windows to her lack of perfection,
For in them I see my own reflection.
I see my own insecure fears
that run from the road like deer.
They run from the road of progression.
They make illegal u-turns through red lights
down one way streets in the opposite direction.
I broke these windows and closed the blinds forever.
Then I closed my own so we could lie together.