Do you understand, when I say that I cannot meet your eyes for fear of what I may see reflected in them? Or perhaps I really fear to see my own eyes looking back.

Strange, when you look at a stranger’s eyes across the street and see your own looking back at you. Behind our secret walls we dance the same dance. Like finding the same pearl in a mussel and an oyster.

How my battered and dented silver soul trembles when you turn it lovingly in your hands, like a familiar treasure, cherishing each scratch and tarnish.

Know then, how I hold your flawed sapphire blazing to the sun, my eyes now kindled by every glint and sparkle.


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