window(s)

.

.

.


Some say the eyes are windows to the soul

and some they knock with stones


.


Once there were shattered glass in my eyes

now I walk on those shards

trying to not make a sound

pretending the woollen floor 

is a river of drops

 since I do not wish 

to cause a racket


.


But maybe 

perhaps 

I'll see you in Home 

once more


glancing

through coloured blinds 




and the heart 

would truly smile


.

.

.

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