Tuesday, January 24, 2012

Window Eyes

The people around me 
are sharp, shiny, brittle and empty. 
They try to hide it by reflecting 
their surroundings. 
Empty smiles, mirror eyes. 
But you are different. 
Even now I'm surprised to see 
that instead of a hard, cold reflection 
I see a window, 
so pure and clear 
that it compels me, 
draws me into the depth of your 
very being. 
Only you with your window eyes.

This poem haunted me for a couple of days until I scribbled it out into my journal. 

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