The girl in glasses

A girl in glasses.

Hidden behind those slender 

frame of glasses 

Are found eyes 

That tells stories beyond 

What you see 

Behind those glasses 

I’ve become okay 

With hiding the color of my eyes.

Those almost black 

Hazy brown,

Catlike 

Tiny little eyes of mine 

That serves as my window to the outside world 

This pair of glasses 

Have not just become a protection 

For my delicate eyes against 

A harmful influx of light 

But have become my shied

From prying eyes 

who wants nothing but to devour 

the stories my mouth refuses to utter 

It’s a shield I’ve become 

So comfortable to hide behind 

As my eyes these days 

Carry bags of their own.

Bags from restless nights 

With not enough sleep 

Bags from tumultuous sleep 

With torturous dreams 

Bags of worries 

And very 

Few bags of genuine happiness 

No wonder 

My eyes don’t shine with luster 

Like they used to before.

What’s even sadder is 

I’m not sure at the moment 

They ever will again.

Maybe they will eventually 

Let’s not be pessimistic. 

Or really, 

Maybe what I need 

Is to redefine and define again 

What it means for my eyes to sparkle 

And be open to more possibilities 

Or should I say opportunities 

that will bring the spark back into my eyes

But for now 

I’m still the girl in glasses 

And this is my story.

Ifedolapo