The Mirror. V.1

 She sees the tears slowly running down and the line of dripping black mascara that keeps trickiling down the sides of her face. Her hand reaches out at the same time as mine, they meet but do not touch. My hand touches the cold glass of the mirror as my other hand moves my bangs away from my eyes. They are bloodshot and appear black. My bangs shift slowly back into place and my eyes dissapear behind them.

They say that the eyes are the windows to the soul, my eyes imply dread, dispair and a sence of being broken. Now i can even taste some of thoes tears that have been slipping down the paths of my tear stained face. These have wondered off the path... and landed in my mouth.

Author's Note

ignore grammar problems and spelling