short term lashes close rapidly upon my green eyes. they seem to laugh, they have an expression of their own as if separated from the rest of my face.
they speak the lashes. like arched lips batting together in an almost forsaken embrace. they seem impatient to separate and yet so hungry to reunite only to be devised again. their touch is merely brushy. a seasonal gust.
the cycle goes unnoticed. it's just a reflex.
but then, at one point, i simply catch glimpse of them. separate entities with an own law. sometimes they're noisy. i can hear their whiff. as if tired of the continuous process they are subjected to.
embraced and rejected. two teams of lovers shaking hands and waving goodbye. meeting and separating. making acquaintance and dismissing one another.
if they spoke the human words tales of unfulfilled romances would be squandered.
if they played the human music mesmerizing spine tap riffs would be liberated.
if they danced the human moves unseen sways would be unearthed.
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