She sat there,
As stagnant as the Dead Sea.
Contemplating over the treatment
of the suffering.
Her eyes glistening ,
like that of a curious little kitten.
I look into those eyes, but all they reflect is a glare. What is that you want to cut through the opaque? What is that you hide so efficiently behind the glare? Why are you so afraid? More precisely, what are you so afraid of?
Oh, maybe I know what it feels out there in a world of no one to be called yours. Maybe I know the ship that wrecked your shore. Maybe, you were the hurricane in the calm wind. Maybe, you are self-less with a tinge of selfish. But, foremost, I wish maybe, my maybe’s weren’t yours and you knew what it is to be amidst the happy go lucky. The feeling of having a cover under the shade when it rains cats and dogs. The warm cuddles with a lifetime person. I hope someday you’d know what it is for the eyes to shine so bright having known what a seventh heaven feels like.
Meanwhile, do not belittle the firestorm of hope. Don’t forget to wish secretly when it’s 11:11. Oh, how can you let go of the shooting stars? The way your eyeballs glistened to shooting stars, and the long dark lashes fluttered whilst you wished, could make anyone want to wish for shooting stars to stroll by more often.
Whilst her rough fingers
ran down the shore,
trying to emanate the mystery,
Of her existence.
The Daily Post Prompts: https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/glaring/