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.