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There was nothing special about her,
She was just a girl;
Average at the naked eye.
Not too pretty,
Not ugly either.
Just a girl.
Nothing really standing out about her.
Nothing except her eyes.
They weren’t any special,
Beautiful,
Kind of color.
Except,
For those very few who knew how to look,
And what to look for.
Beneath that seemingly careless gaze,
That happy glow,
That glaze covering them;
There was so much more.
Some could see the pain,
Some would see the sorrow,
The weight of her poor decisions,
The fear of being forgotten,
Of leaving this world of ours untouched.
Some say they could even see the lives she’d lived,
And the many more to come after this one as well.
Some could see the many lives she lived right now,
The ever-changing qualities and virtues,
The constant reinvention in search of redemption.
Redemption of sins she didn’t even truly believe in.
A vague grasp to rid herself of all of that emptiness,
All of the void she kept filling with banalities,
Which of course,
Were never enough.
Her eyes screamed a cry for help,
A cry for understanding,
A cry for nurture.
A cry those who were able to read her eyes,
Ironically could never hear.
The pain was so,
The constant disappointment of letting them in,
Having them see past the vague lies her eyes told,
And not only not alleviate anything,
But most times made it many times worse;
That she decided to shut them.
Shut her eyes,
Those windows to a broken soul.
Shut them for good.
“Keep your gaze down”, She told herself, “They can’t hurt you anymore.”

13.08.07

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