Eyelash

At times, it hurts.
As tears pour down your cheek
Stubbornly irritating the eye
scratching the eyeball an angry red

Sometimes, it is a wish
Gently laid on a wrist
Blown away
with whispers of hope

At times, it is beauty.
Loning for shiny black curls
At times, peace and calm
As you pray to the universe

At times, signs of aging.
Turning grey, then silvery
As the years become numbered
And they have been a witness

They are the glue.
Holding the eyes tightly shut
The eternal rest
When they close one last time

A million memories turn to dust
Having softened the tears
Over the years
As they fell


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