When was the last time I looked into your lenses?

Eyelashes reaching out sweeping across frosted glass,

clear rivers flooded with light,

and proding strands of dull brown locks.

Lenses that have seen the world,

lenses that have taken a dozen pictures,

lenses that know secrets you couldn’t tell your best friend.

I wish those lenses would look into the eyes of another.

Barren of their own silicon fixtures,

they crave the picture of another.

Eyes like a dark room

and I’m the light that burns the image.

Development poisoned by a ray of sunlight.

Hands thrown up shading those delicate eyes

from the burning nature of my own.

These lenses you cannot share.