If I could read your lines
Sit right there and go through your part
So close as if studying all the topographies
of your journey reflected on your skin
The lines that tell me the stories
with the highlights of your scars

Its beautiful because I can almost see the lover
in your eyes covered with the sheen that has not yet died
The lover who waits in the hope
the entirety of her revolved around him
She revolved around him
gracefully holding a cup following him

He never admitted but he knew
he saw from the corner of his eye each time
how she refused to stay awake
how she held him when he screamed and tried to push her away
how she cried to induce the same
and he would finally give up and crouch to fit his giant exterior on her small lap
crouch to fit his giant ego into her small kind eyes

Then I would look at his spectacles
that see a different universe
one in which our truths are not the same
unluckily for me I can’t peep into his world
Because the glasses don’t reflect him
they only reflect the ones looking at him

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