What my eyes have seen and my heart has felt

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Unknown – Botanical Gardens, Vero Beach – June, 2015.


My eyes have seen purples and peaches. Evenings filled with warmth and sweetness. Perfume, spring, flowers in the air. My eyes have seen sunsets and sunrises. Empty nights, in which no arms would come and comfort me. Not even mine. My eyes have seen beautiful waters, nice sand, mountains covered in ice and also naked ones. Snow. The cold dry air. My eyes have seen love and hatred, and every color in between. Empathy. Sorrow. Streets full of garbage and people. Rats in New York. Carriages in Savannah. Babies being carried all over. People making out, people dancing. People arguing. I have seen death. Births. The opposite of love. My eyes have seen Monet's gardens and bridges. The predicable and the unexpected. Opposite lights in the unbearable journey. My eyes have seen blood and pettiness. Security and fear. My eyes have heard stories and have doubted the love it was offered. My eyes have seen laughter for no reason; pain. Repetition. My eyes have seen voices that allude to, but never really mean what they say. My eyes have seen the saddest loneliness of all. Silence. My eyes have seen Shakespeare and all smiles derived of. Support and disdain. Poverty. Power. A heart escaping my very own heart. My eyes have seen my slow death. My ideals shrinking day by day. Year by year. Bells ringing in nowhere. Drama. The latitude of time embedded in circles: the labyrinth of life smothering hope. 

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