My Self-Reflection

Do you notice the curling of my lips?

The random speckle of brown beneath my left eye?

The peeking tongue that appears between my teeth whenever I concentrate?

The brilliant transformation from auburn to glistening ruby that my hair undergoes in the sunlight?

The evergrowing amount of freckles on my nose as summer slowly passes?

When there is a dust storm engulfing us,

Can you find my glistening hair because 

It is not clouding, dispersing, changing around you?

It is right in front of your face.

But the forecast your eyes foretell is so apparent:

100% chance of clouds.

Every day.

They blind you from seeing the amazing, beautiful sight just beyond your reach:

Two eyes that could be blown to dust

And disappear forever, but they uphold a gaze of desperation

Two eyes that hold on to the possibility of a sunny forecast that will never come

Two eyes that peer so deeply into the windows of the soul,

The windows could shatter.

But they don't, because the eyes are still gazing,

Waiting, hoping,

Hoping that one day, one day, a gaze will break their very own windows 

And find the secrets buried in the soul.

Until then,

My oddly-placed freckle, my curling lips, my peeking tongue, and my glistening hair

Will be but swirling specks of dust.