Your Eyes Were Like Windows

by suicidallyanonymous

i.
They told me your eyes were like windows,
how they shimmered like polished silver
when splattered with a lukewarm coat of rain…
but that’s when we all blinked.

No one knew what your pupils felt like
when the rain seeped through
the folds in your iris,
like the gills of a mushroom.

Beneath coarse layers of eyelashes,
some of us found our minds
to be clarified goblets of melted diamonds;
others were blinded by curtains
drawn with dried charcoal
like mascara tears.

ii.
They gave you arms like Popeye,
but you wailed like an infant
halfway through the anchor tattoo,
and lost consciousness when blood surfaced
oozing through skin; angry red pinpricks.

From the saliva on your tongue,
to the neatly filed crescents of your toenails;
You are just a puppet, their idol,
conjured by thick-coming fancies.

You have no choice but to dangle
from the blue and red wires
meticulously extracted
from the hand-cut lines in your wrist.
You’re supposed to waltz,
but they’ve confused your feet
into stomping through
the hokey-pokey.

iii.
They adorned the crown of your head
with a noose strung with stained glass;
they inflicted upon you a speech impediment,
so that the words
squeezing through your blistered lips
would bear a resemblance to Hebrew.

The palms of your hands are stapled;
a permanent gesture in anguished prayer,
to emulate the Christ himself.

iv.
Extended cupped hands
are jabbing the tendons in your ankles,
as they kneel on a bed of teeth
in fervent hope.
Perhaps you might grace
the feeble bones of the weak
with the weight of a silver coin.

They are the tattered souls
awaiting redemption,
but salvation doesn’t come to those
who press their swollen noses in the dirt,
to worship your golden calves.

v.
They told me your eyes were like windows,
but I recognized the comatose gaze
of chipped marbles,
poorly installed like a leaky drain.

They lost their grip on reality
when they all… blinked.

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