Her eyes were glib in all shades of emotion,
laid naked for those who would care.
The dark muses and wisest seers tainted her shadows
illuminated her spirit and touched her with rainbow displays
of laughter and easy tears.
Yet no one came to cry,
remaining instead
smug in their own foolishness,
sensing the enormous truth that lay hidden from their view.
Fearing her countenance.
Rejecting her projections.
They thought that the laughter opening in her eyes
was not emotion, technically,
but an illusion presented unto them.
Although they knew that she wanted to appear vulnerable,
their eyes held different illusions
and they did not want to indulge her.
So they abandoned her,
pitifully, to the lie that lurked
within the holes of her tears,
that became distorted through her blurry eyes
until she was secure in the colors of her rainbow.
. Trish Evers was a professional artist
and writer living in Wheaton,