With my eyes closed, I see shadows and lights tracing the underside of my eyelids. I feel the roundness of my eyeballs and the moisture that keeps them from drying out.

With my eyes closed, I see images of shark’s teeth, baleen bristles filtering salt water for sustenance, and darkness all around. The weight of my lashes keeps my eyes from opening, trapping out visual clarity.

With my eyes closed, I pray for the beauty in love to overtake my heart, the ugliness of hate to be expelled from my brain and the idiocy of perceived wisdom vanish from my mirror. The bone of my eye sockets serve as the hardened damn preventing both escape and access.

With my eyes closed, I weep with sadness in memory of my familiar’s departure from reality, years of moments left un-lived and singularly simple joys that make it all worth something. I feel and see all things differently.

With my eyes closed.