The day the optician unframed my face
and took away my childhood:
I would no longer hide behind glass;
I would wear eyeliner and wink
at boys with smiles and piles of math textbooks.
I balanced my new life on the ball of my finger,
its translucent rim and pooled blue rainbows,
I said "This will make me pretty."
My spectacles rolled their lenses
and dozed in the bottom of my bedside drawer.
The first day I wore contact lenses,
my eyes glittered. But no one noticed,
looking right through me with their 20/20 eyes.
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This is the work of a young poet - I got this off the Poems on the Underground project, which you can read more about here and here.
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