A green eye and a brown one interlock as the teeth of a gear, crushing empty space into slicing shards. Face rent into halves stitched together with a well-healed scar. A light side, and a dark one.
One blue eye, and one gray one gaze back. But these two eyes are split between two bodies; one per twin.
Dusky, filthy hazel regards stormy, pale blue.
They regard each other with too much regard altogether.
Strangers who know each other very well.
Earth-tone Eyes stands, reconciled, in one body. Jagged, pale scars streak across tattooed skin. Mouth stitched closed with the industrial thread of valor. Keeping a razorblade tongue hidden away in a cavern of echoing truths.
Storm-shade eyes sits and watches, half-oblivious, half hyper-aware. Though the twins are motionless, the leftside of the pair covers the mouth of it's clone, and the rightside pair clasps a reciprocating hand over it's dopplegangers' ear.
Maybe they aren't twins.
They're the mirror images of each other, with a little social distortion muddying the lens of perception.
One stands: whole and reconciled, while memorizing every clinical, irrelevant detail of the square peg and the round hole. Squeezing the blood of unknowledge from the stone of theory.
The other sits: split and comfortable, and uttering a cacophonous, whispering torrent of As It Must Be's. The litany holding the twins close, but apart, so somebody might not mistake one for the other. A binding sash of rejection without expulsion.
11:42 p.m. - 2014-05-05
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