Self-Sabotage.

There's something in his eyes when he talks. a deep reflective flicker of hope.
Followed by pupils that flash the fierce damages of loss.
There's something in his eyes when talks.
Something shy and beautiful, emotional and raw.
There's an impenetrable heaviness in his soul
Like he's trying to carry the weight of sweet mother Tonantzin
on shoulders that are made for love.

There's something in his eyes when he talks,
His retinas still speaking long after his voice slips away into thought.
They whisper that he is humble and honest, noble and strong.
That he is a teyaochihuani, guerrero,
Warrior of life
even when the days make it impossible to move on,
even when sadness solidifies into cement pulling ankles down.

There's something in his eyes when talks.
It's the way he looks at the ground as if at any moment his heart might sprout,
watering the Earth with free flowing ventricles,
as if at any moment he might tunnel his way back to Anahuac,
to nuestra Mexicatlalli.

There's something in his eyes when he talks,
that reminds me of all my fears and self-sabotage.
There's something in his eyes when he talks,
something that scares my hardened fleshy walls of hidden vulnerability
and I realize,
that there's something in my eyes when I talk.
Something shy and beautiful, emotional and raw.

I realize,
that there's something in our eyes when we talk.
That our pupils are telling the same story
of two people who are too self sacrificing,
too analytical, too harsh on the selves they are
because they can't accomplish the selves they want to be.

There's something in his eyes when he talks,
that makes my hardened fleshy walls of hidden vulnerability turn soft.
There's something in his eyes when talks,
that makes me want to fight my doubting self-sabotage.