Medusa’s Eyes
The chill in your stare travels down my spine.
Your blood emptied out by syringe.
The flush in my cheeks, your pale skin, divine.
The ice in your veins makes me cringe.
You’re physically here, but mentally gone.
Unnerving, your statue appeal.
Absent and alone, the light isn’t on.
Medusa herself was more real.
The life in your eyes, destroyed, disappears.
It’s crying within, how it wails.
Your smile is dead, it speaks to deaf ears.
It flickers, and falters and fails.
