AnyaBoz

Beyond the Glass Every morning, as I stumble from my bedroom, my mind foggy from sporadic fractions of dreams, my fingers tingling from awkward slumber, as I shuffle down the hallway in a state of delirium, shading my squinting sheltered eyes from the sun's irking joy, and wipe away the crystallized tears from my numbed cheeks, I see her. She emerges from the lingering night and greets me in the dank shadows of my bathroom. Her subtle grin petrifies my heart and traps me in her ravenous stare. Her pupils scream for my focus, dilating with voracity. Her irises bleed into her whites as the pupil contracts. I cannot separate my gaze from the de