In the end,
She told me: with tear stained eyes-
“I feel as if my body is an old pottery vase
We all begin as strangers.
Each day
There is something about the way eyes tell a story,
a truth.
I find them so lovely,
that a room full of people feels — like a library.
There are so many missing, lost eyes.
You think you need acceptance,
to feel valid.
You aspire to improve,
your outer shell.
Even when you think the
inside – is what matters.