Dashed Eyes

By Ella Kang

Look at her eyes!

Hauntingly mocking me,

Slightly squinting in irritant,

Scarcely opening them back.

Forcing them into a round oval shape,

Molding to fit a frame, pity’s standard of beauty,

Stretching to reach the case, lens of a doe, never mine to hold,

Yet caving back in vanity, Scattered shards of yearning aside.

Is she blind?

Ain’t in sooth…

Does she have sight?

Quite in truth…

Encircled by fences of coal and chalk herds of lamb,

I, a lone kid of amber suffering the rare.

Goldish coppered skin beaming in the stark,

Slender thread of eyes flattened like a mark.

Alien adrift in lone world of biased walls,

Wondering aimlessly without a light—

My spaceship?

My planet?

Perhaps from the drowsy lids,

Perchance by the dimly veiled eyes.

Look at her eyes!

Caught between sight and shadow,

Caught between words and space.

Interrupting my innate essence with prefix, never letting to usher in,

Separating my shadow into piece of letters, blade of hyphens slaughtering their bodies,

Pausing my weaving courage, cornering myself in a burrow, where nobody discerns,

Spotlighting my aching scar, unstitching the wounded pain, for it was standing alone.

Is she a sole star?

Fated so!

Does she glare against the dark?

Indeed so!

Dashes…

Once, they netted the sorrow of thorns,

Bridging to cradle charms of relics in one’s eyes.

Midst, they unravel the threadbare yarn of my journey,

And reflect the resilience of my untamed soul.

By Ella Kang