If I could be the eyelash  fallen from the rest. Never found by the violent scratch— connected to the irritated hand. I would be invisible and destructive,  the production of tears and feeling of relief  once discovered.  I would need to be the only thought that comes to mind as I fall into your deep bronzed eyes.  The blurred vision disappearing,  once I am surrounded by your hands.  After noticed, I am thrown away— left to dance in the wind  until I am invisible once again.