They see beauty,
They show fear.
They take in each piece of life
Through a simple blinking action,
As if taking a picture,
Letting the lenses soak in its surroundings.
Make me FLAWLESS.
Blue as the ocean,
Speckled with green around the pupil,
Recieving second glances
From strangers walking my way.
They were the first gift,
My mother gave me.
I worship these organs.
Applying layers of taupe and rose along their lids,
With gold along the inner fold.
Creating a smooth stroke of brown eyeliner,
Before I complete the process with a flick of the wrist,
adding contrast to my top lashes.
Even my FLAWLESS pupils,
They become weaker with each day.
As with beauty comes pain.
But my glasses?
They too make me FLAWLESS.
As if a simple frame to show-off my eyes.
They are what what defines me.
What people think of when they hear my name.
They are FLAWLESS.