They were walking around with swollen circles hanging underneath their eyes, pregnant with tears they were terrified to unleash and bent forward by the weight of dusty wings they forgot how to use.
I was the one born with eyes made of crystal that could penetrate every surface, each one of their poorly disguised lies (She’s too young to understand) crying the tears they couldn’t cry and catching sharp forms in the air that I didn’t know how to digest.
One day, I decided that I want to give away my crystals in exchange for two common stones that would soften the edges of the forms so I could bleed no more.
Oh, little did I know that blurring it all wouldn’t stop the blood from spilling all around, that the wounds were already there, grasping for air beneath the thick layer of dispair.
Now that’s all gone and the blood dried up leaving the scars and rough skin around... now I’d like my crystals back. I’m ready to see it as it is. I am ready to endure the sharpness of light without losing from the sight the softness of skin that surrounds my heart.