They say that the eyes are a window into a person's soul. When I look into my own eyes I see complication, I see restraint. Have you ever watched your eyes as they cry? There is mysterious beauty in their work. Watching my own eyes as I cry is cathartic in a very simple way. My chest pulls like the strings on a guitar with the deep breaths I force into my lungs. I hear a voice in my head narrating haunting poetry..."her eyes, the color of melancholy"...and I just nod in agreement. Gray. The color of the ocean beneath heavy clouds, moments before a storm.
