Black Eyes
Hunching over, nearly prostrate,
hoarding sweet tragedy,
eyes nervous and hateful,
staring from afar.
Amid the lightly furious bustle,
you stare deadly at me,
more like spoons than daggers,
I look up to wait.
Not yelling injustices or hate,
but through your intense eyes,
you tell me you know
that I have and can still feel.
Then, breaking the spell, you slowly blink,
and in my mind I see you stand,
a convict in handcuffs led away,
and terrifyingly, the face I recognize is my own.