The Eyes

I walked into the bedroom.
They were there.
I haven’t seen them before—
Not like this.
(I’ve seen others,
The Indian, the old
Pioneer woman.
But not here.)
The eyes were everywhere,
They were watching me—
Are watching me.
What do they want?
I walked into the bathroom,
They followed
And watched
As I brushed my teeth—
So many eyes staring back
Through the mirror.
Watching to see what
I will do.
Why!
They stare behind me
Now as I type.
Watching.
I’m not mad.
They’re here.
They’re not
Memories,
Lost loved-ones,
Guilt,
Or me.
They’re they,
The ones—
Those that watch.
That’s what
They tell me.
I’m not mad….