Her eyes like tears creating a small lake
I'd never seen blue until that very moment
Her nose coming outward creating valley of spring
It was between her brows that little dots create a fire like red ants on the skin
Ants marching on opaque skin
Can you hear them?
Can you see their legs?
But they move all the same
Does that which cannot see have knowledge?
There will come a time in which a spirit moves within you and you cannot refute it's presence
But it is fleeting all the same
No different than illusions of reality