I stare in glass, at hollow grace,

A face the world will not embrace.

No stars, no spark, no gentle glow,

Just eyes that scream, “I’ll never show.”

They don’t write songs for eyes like mine,

No metaphors, no sacred shrine.

No one gets lost in this blank sea,

No hearts undone. No poetry.

I’ve seen the girls with sugar lids,

With lashes long like fairytale fibs.

They blink, and men forget to breathe—

I blink, and all the dreams just leave.

So leave it there, don’t twist the end,

No phoenix rise, no hope to lend.

Just tired eyes that watch, unseen—

Not ugly.

Not lovely.