Just Me

Sometimes I walk by without noticing,
but not often.
Eyes that aren’t mine
meeting eyes that are.
I know there is nothing behind them,
it’s only a simple trick anyway,
but they still stare at me,
into me.
If I stare back too long
they might swallow me whole.
Each golden green orb surrounded by
long blinking eyelashes
and skin tinged blue by lack of sleep:
there was no make-up left to cover the circles up.
Every now and then a tear falls slowly
down the curve of my cheekbone and into
the corners of my chapped, red lips
where the tip of my tongue automatically
pulls the salty candy diamond into the
warm cavern that is my mouth.

But the reflection doesn’t care,
and the eyes that aren’t mine
yet are
never change.

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