A window with silver paint, my reflection is what I see. My eye, dark blue and gray. Stunning in some ways. They speak for themselves. They’re the windows to my soul. A manifestation of the the truth. You see all my weakness, all my love. You see my life, my struggles, my failures. My eyes smile for you. They cry for you. It’s as if my heart is right in view. Pain, and past hurts, you see glimpses of those. All these things, all this love, all this hate, all this confusion, and all this clarity, make me who I am. Please love me.










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“Where do your eyes go first? Write something (truth or fiction) that begins and ends with someone looking in a mirror.”