I wear them to conceal my feelings.
Behind the polarized plastic
no one can see my streaked mascara
blended with the brine of my tears
leaving a black pool around the edges,
as smudged ink does when your pen runs out.
It spills all over the paper you’ve been working on.
They make me look cool when I’m not.
Looking out of them everything is dark, like my mood.
It softens the brashness. It welcomes shyness.
Turns the day into night.
I’m a window otherwise. I need my privacy too.