Presbyopia

Mirror of water,
heart of glass
she sees her reflection
rippling past.
The water is cold,
then hot,
then tepid
when touched.
She sees mottled visions,
her blindside within
Her glasses are speckled,
splash
splash
splash
Erasing the clarity,
changing the past.
Throwing stones on the surface,
breaking the glass.
To see outside,
to see from afar,
she wants nothing more,
than to see without scars.

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