Strange Looks

How many times has he looked at me and thought failure? Thought incompetent? Allowed his irises to graze over my tattered ruins and blink dissapointment away? Forced the black of his eyelids to resemble the black of the void of emptiness I never grew bold enough to replace? I'm sorry I couldn't be his glimpse at the gates of Heaven and ruined his last chance of opening his eyes at the sight of purity. Maybe one day his eyes will look at me and see fire, breathe demolition, and taste pain And I won't have to wonder how many times they look at me and think disaster. I'll know.