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Window to the Soul
The eyes of lovers are open doors, unlocked by true love and intimacy.
 Each of us holds ourselves captive in that inner panic room, that shelter we begin building upon our first disappointment and heartbreak. 
 Every hurt and betrayal adds a brick or stone…a log or nail to that tranquil room that protects our fragile, egg shell souls. 
              Their eyes were locked together once. 

 Hers like the glowing amber of whiskey as the light shines through the glass. 
His, the earthy green of a moss covered rock, sheltered under the canopy of majestic trees.
She gave him the intoxicating power of her untarnished soul.
He gifted her with the safe refuge of his woodland hideaway, his eager inner-self. 
Sadly, his gaze began to falter, his head lowered to hide his shame. 
Unable to escape into her lover's abode, she became frightened, her power wasted on common sights. 
   In rare moments of connection she hoped and exhaled. But all too soon his far away stare looked past her.  
       
        Without moving a muscle, he veiled his soul. 
     He tore down her refuge with inattention, neglect...
                        ...only to leave her helpless. 

  “Look at me!”, the scream rips from her glare. 
“See me!”, her brow raises its mime’s voice.
Not able to continue this intimacy alone, for intimacy requires plurality, she looks into a mirror.
 Loneliness demands frequent intoxicated binging. 
 She pours her whiskey gaze into herself and actively forgets. 
Her naked, broken soul curls up without shelter, shivering, exposed. 
            As raw as a body, flayed to muscle and bone.

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