Mahogany falls ripple over her shoulders in a gentle cascade. Eyes wide, empty, searching, yearning with a hopeful and curious light. A hint of betrayal and pain from the past.
Her gaze settles upon me with the lightness of butterfly wings. Yet, cloaks me with the weight of a blacksmith's anvil...
An unspoken question...Is it hers or mine? Fear comes with the realm of the unknown.
Chance they call it, a choice to make, a game to play or beg you to take. So, of the question. is it in her eyes or in the air? Is it even real? Perhaps, which one could it be?
Do I see the reflection of recognition? After all this time? Am I merely crazed? Is it just in my mind? Can the answer be found?
Should I pretend to be Blind?