---
There's a splinter in my iris which I couldn't remove, a splinter who made me blind about my distorting existence, a splinter who made me unperceived for those people who kept my tarnishing & suffocating melancholy in the ombre sea floors of their eyes, the people who weaved the corners of my wounds, rotten flesh in a pattern of messed up bed sheets.
I would treasure them like rain drops in netted windows, kept in my heart, they're the one breath of sigh whenever i'm drinking coffee in a rainy day, a feeling of relief in a mentally jaded chapter.
I would keep you like a person's cascading soul in the cemeteries, always locked in place, in a tombstone with no bouquets, they were the fresh scent of perfume kept underneath soiled clothes, like the smell of a lavender field.
I would keep myself like someone's reflection, always sealed in my eyes, seeing in the dusty mirrors if there's uneven tones on my rainbow, if there's a scratch on my worn ivory skin when the whole time I was just blind about those those people that would try their best to pluck the sharp arrows that life would shoot at me, they would try their best to pluck that one singular splinter in my eyes.
Was I just blind the whole time? or was I paying too much attention to a single dark cloud that would give me thunders for the rest of my life?
---
©sars.
J