He was thinking

That lies came to his lips

Faster than they used to

And he wondered

At what moment

He became this way

He was thinking

That he used to listen

For birds out the window

Try to identify them

By their chirp

Now he only hears 

The heater turning on

When he is staring at the wall

He was thinking

That it was all his thinking

That changed him

And he wondered

At what moment

He locked himself away

His smile never seemed

To touch his eyes

And so he went outside 

And shut his eyes

And waited

For the next bird

To fly by

I ignored my doubts, my jangling warnings

overcome by his well practiced charm.

He smiled but it didn’t seem to touch

his eyes, it looked rehearsed but

I didn’t notice because they were so blue.

He said just what I wanted to hear -

you’re beautiful, a rose in my lapel.

He spun his web and trapped me there

I ignored whispers of malevolent voices

clanging and shouting to step away.

He liked to maintain power over my life,

was narcissistic and impulsive and reckless.

Sad to say, this attracted me -throbbing magnets

Antisocial, he was, except to me.

To me, he was Prince Charming in dulcet voice

I notice he excused himself often to snort cocaine

loved the high, enhanced his sexuality.

Seemed disassociated from world outside

focused on me and worked his magic,

led me step by step into his lair.

I followed him without a glance back,

he took what he wanted with force -

a coercive sex without love which

gave him excitement without guarantees

and then he added me to his string

of conquests by slitting my throat,

tossing me on the ground to decay.

A true psychopath with no warmth,

I should have been warned by his eyes.

We sat under the stars, basking in all forms of light:

starlight

moonlight

porch light.

And with all these lights combined, I could make out pieces of him:

a collection of curls,

hints of slowly growing stubble,

tired eyes,

worried eyes.

I pointed to the moon,

asked if he saw a rabbit or man.

He just laughed weakly,

to humor me.

I asked him about Petunia, his devilish dog.

"How is that dog?"

He offered nothing more than a "fine."

"Remember that time she stuck her head in the fish bowl and your sister was crying and begging us to save her fish?"

I laughed, hoping it'd be infectious.

He smiled, but it didn't seem to touch his eyes.

"Ooh. Remember-"

"Stop."

Silence fell between us,

but the world kept speaking:

the dogs kept barking,

the cicadas kept shouting,

the neighbors kept arguing.

"No more," he said.

"I can't do this anymore."

"Why?"

He turned his tired, sad eyes to mine, filled with tears.

"Because I'd be lying to both of us if we continued this any longer."

He kissed the top of my head,

hopped over the fence,

left me to sort out these thoughts.

Then the porch lights turned off,

and the moon light didn't seem so bright,

and the stars were blocked by clouds of gray,

and I wondered what I did to drive him away.

His eyes, a hazel brown

That seemed to light up when I was around.

A smile, a little gap

That it seemed only I could unwrap.

A memory, a small token

Of a first love just awoken.

Her eyes, a cacao brown

That grow deeper when I'm around.

Her smile, a crooked grin

As bewitching as a good girl's sin.

A moment, only pivotal

Of the revival of love and its struggle.

Memories

Old and new

Me and him

Me and you

With the love we had now defiled

In an endless silence, he still smiled

How strange to realize...

It didn't seem to touch his eyes.

He smiled, but it didn't seem to touch his eyes, and it made me wonder, if his spirit was like mine.

But then I realized, broken does not need more shards, and pain will not let go of guards.

I realized hurt does not invite compassion and suffering is a locked down mansion.

That love does not glue back a fracture, that he and I, equal disaster.

So I smiled, but it didn’t seem to touch my eyes, eyes he caught, his forehead creased

as his hand found mine in the crowd, to hold on for a second, then release.

And we smiled, but it didn’t seem to touch our eyes.

He smiled but it didn't seem to touch his eyes...

The reflection in the mirror shows the broken soul of a young man growing up in world where the color of your skin defined who you are. The reflection looks back at him and whispers, “I guess you know from the smiles and the look in their eyes everyone’s got a theory about the bitter one.”Chris has been here in this position before with himself, talking to himself and even answering himself. He knew even as a kid that something was wrong with him; I mean no one wanted him. “I know what they are saying…” he throws water onto his face to hide the tears forming behind his brown eyes. He hates looking into the mirror because his reflection always shows the truth. That is probably why he got rid of all the mirrors in his apartment, all but one. 

“They’re saying, your mother never loved you much and your father was never around to give a damn,” His reflection quirked its lips in anticipation of Chris’ reacting in a negative way. But not this time, this time the young man just walked away from the mirror in the bathroom and made his way into the living room where he stopped to look out the window to the street below where kids were playing basketball. He envied all the kids in his neighborhood growing up, only because they seemed happy and he was not.

At least their smiles touched their eyes...

I smiled

and he threw me a courteous reply;

but it was 

as honest as the most infamous lie.

I reached to him

trying to feel his sorrows within;

but my fingers

only strike coldness and a numb glass.

He smiled

but it didn't seem to touch his eyes;

the arc hung there

like a crescent moon in a black sky.

There is a wall

that separates reality and what I do;

the saddest thing was

the truth is trapped in there and I did it.