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Brown eyes... by Zaara HaroonBrown eyes…
She saw the sunlight filtering through her messy hair
Poised as sharp knives to prick gruesomely into her cornea
Brown eyes…as they were…
She saw her reflection in them.
She appeared small, condensed, miniature, a featured singularity
There was something in them…
Which she was lacking
Which she was doubting.
Adamant on what she was a year back,
She felt a breeze which made the fibre fall over her sight.
Brown eyes…as they were…
Complimented and described as the honey which smiles
Complimented without compulsion
Complimented without malice
Complimented with sheer ignorance of what was hidden beneath the surface…
She saw the sunlight changing moons,
Moonlight on her body
Filtering through the painted window beside her white bed sheet
Piercing…looking through her eyes once again
The sound of a heart throb as she felt the wind showing signs of victory
The curtains moved, shivered…
Suggesting there was somebody behind them
How she wished there was that somebody…that breath…that touch…that voice…
Her brown eyes almost misted with that blankness which she painted in the daytime…
Sitting under the sun
With sunlight filtering through her hair
Trying to peep into her senses
No doubt…
She was in love…
Helplessly in love…
She smelt her lover as she lowered her head
Close to her arms
She hid herself
She felt his fingers through her own…
His tempestuous gaze which made her uncomfortably warm
His presence…
Around her…
She walked on water and drowned in the concrete
Lay down on her back again to give way to the sun
To give way to his attempts to make her his.
And with that came a turn, she turned to her side…
The moon had come over again…another day went by,
Lying on her back, she saw the planets sigh,
She saw the planets collide.
She was chapped when she saw herself in the mirror next
Heard hollow echoes when she called out her name
Empty walls with red bricks
Chalk sticks on pavements and on wet grass
Teacups of mercury…
She smelt new leaves.
She wanted the times back…
Wanted to relive her memories…wanted the nightmare to come to life.
She then found a camera
Started to click here and there
Tried clicking with her self…
She portrayed herself as the never-ending aura
Needing no waste,
No taste,
No inhalation,
No touch,
No love.
She saw her picture, saw her very own brown eyes
But she found them unsmiling now…
Her lashes down at happiness and glory,
Bright red at tears,
Flooding them with expression, communication.
Tears of resentment, tears of anger,
Tears of hatred and of a slow winding staircase
She was dying…not as a whole,
But in parts.
She had lost her heart, now she was losing her head
She tasted her salty eyes, heard the rustle through her messy hair,
Senselessly insensitive, incapable of vision as she had become.
There she sat up.
Her eyes fell a briny dew.
She saw herself again…not on the camera,
But still in her dilemma,
She saw herself in her fresh tear.
She saw how pretty her eyes were…how lightly they had been touched with the brown brush of her creator
How sharply they were shaped with a light coffee velvet inside them,
Like a dry leaf dancing its last dance of autumn,
To perch like a butterfly in bliss…
Bathed in colour, she took in the smoke, felt her stare.
She looked up at the protesting moon,
And saw herself somewhere there.
Venus…she was.
The goddess of love, the love which she had for herself
She heard her hand light up a twig
Moonlight on her torso,
She burned in her light.
Got up now, noticed her height.
She saw herself in her own light.
The sun and the moon,
She had been witnessing a fight.
She looked down as she saw her toes
She wasn't on grass,
She wasn't on fire.
She was standing there. Next to you
On the barkhan of time
Pushing her feet against the sand which couldn't be stamped at.
It had been a waste to stay up for nights.
She saw her reflection somewhere next to you
Lifted her leg
She felt the breeze through her matted hair.
A new life turning green
A new worm unfurling,
A droplet of water clutching still at her eyelash,
She breathed,
She smiled.
Closed her eyes as she felt her brows relax.
It had been a long night.
And as he walked with the stars overhead,
She longed to have the sight of what she had just forgone.
She saw the sand and a trail of footsteps
She didn't know who's to follow,
So she created her own.
She is walking now, intending to be seen…to be heard.
With a tattoo at her collar bone…
I guess she is now free.
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(6 ratings)