Stories I already knew,
Memories I try to forget, or try to remember,
They are hidden.
They hide behind a vortex of color and a fortress of extra ocular muscles.
They are hidden.
They hide behind a shadow of running mascara, drawn out by tears, beckoned by emotion.
I asked my eyes why they hid so much.
“I do not hide your stories.
I do not hide your memories.
I keep them in the fold of your heart.
Do not mistake my interpretations,
As deceit.
Do not confuse my expression,
As mystery.”