Today I felt myself dissociateing,
I tried to avoid communicating,
look towards the ground.

When I talk, I never make eye contact,
or else I find myself distract,
forgetting how to be an undercover extrovert.

Today we shared a silence,
born between conversing violence,
as one topic broke to another.

My eyes picked out your stare,
that common brownish pair,
which slid into place around me.

The understanding pass,
as if I were made of glass
and you could see every ticking gear behind my skin.

You held my glance as one might hold a hand,
gently, delicately, without demand.
I felt safe within your eyes.

Comfortable in the bridge of your nose,
a hammock where I did't seem to impose.
For the first time, I'd be happy to meet your eyes again.