Look Into My Eyes

Marriah Boyd

Look into my eyes.

Look at my face, my neck, my shoulders, my back, my bow.

What do you see?

Dark chocolatey swirls of depth and wonder –

Or pain etched into the canvas of a cornea?

Light hazel flecks setting on the sunset of a glance –

Or anxiety nestling itself into the corner of my mind?

I let you see what I want you to see.

I let you in when I want to let you in.

And – lean in…

Do you want to know the truth?

Do you want to know the truth – the secret – to my idiosyncrasies?

Do you want to unlock the hidden treasure I’ve buried in my bosom for years – ripening all this time?

Well the truth is this… I hurt.

I hurt with the rising of the sun and the setting of the day.

Sometimes breathing feels like rubbing sandpaper on the walls of my lungs.

Pressure mounting, anxiety rising, depression peaking – trying to cusp over my thinly held barriers.

But, you wouldn’t see that, would you?

Of course not.

I only let you see what I want you to see.

I only let you in when I want to let you in.

Because society told me to be tough.

Society told me to be strong.

Society urged me to smile, to be brave, to not cry.

Society begged me to unsee, unfeel, unthink

 – To be a puppet – while yielding forth my own demise.

So, I beg you, look into my eyes.

Look at my face, my neck, my shoulders, my back, my bow.

What do you see?

Because the reflection staring back at me, is one desperately itching to finally be free.

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