Glasses

Artwork by Shana Wu

By Shana Wu 

CW: Domestic Violence 

She chooses me

at the glasses shop. 

The optometrist lifts me from the box and

places me behind her ears.

I feel her cheeky grin warm my body for the first time. 

On the ride home she watches the world 

through my eyes

The autumn wind brushes her black hair against me. Her skin feels soft.

I show her the delicate stems of crimson leaves

The fuzzy edges of a white T-shirt

A black cat’s shining yellow eyes.

At lunch we read books while the other girls play.

The crisp curve of the S on the page sends her 

into the arms of a prince. 

She keeps me close 

At night we say 

goodbye for a while.

She carefully places me at the cool edge of her nightstand and flips the switch to

darkness.

I check for her breath rising in and out of her body 

For the turns and twitches under the duvet.

Stuffed bear grasped in arm,

her eyes flutter. 

I wonder what she’s seeing

We’re in front of the bathroom mirror.

I’m smaller on her face now.

I admire her perfectly placed moles,

her plump baby-fat cheeks and soft freckled skin. 

A wedge deepens between her brows  

She chews her lip and squeezes the fresh pimple obscuring her chin,

frantically caking her blackheads under her mother’s makeup. 

Inky chunks stain her lashes 

and pink dust sits atop her freckles.

She swipes glitter gloss across her peeling lips, 

its shine sinking into the cracks. 

Wish I could tell her what I know

The stuffed bear is in the trash. 

Pink walls are half-painted grey and 

band posters replace Hello Kitty.

Her cheekbones feel sharp against me.

We’re staring at ten outfits sprawled onto the bed through 

my scuffed lens.

She shimmies a short skirt up her body and tightens a bra across her chest.

A buzz vibrates at her desk and she reaches for her phone.

The blue bubble reads what’s your eta 

Omw, she replies.  

Purse in one hand

she tears me from her face with the other

I hit the nightstand with a thud before the door slams shut. 

She leaves me for Jake 

Darkness separates us over and over. 

I watch her from the table edge.  

He’s screaming in her face 

about some guy named Max. 

Her warmth is a memory. 

I see her lips tremble and knees shake, 

snot running down her nose.

She’s sobbing against the wall as 

his fist pounds above her head. 

Her prince is lost in madness.

Her body looks small.

I can’t reach her. 

Saliva shoots from his breath as 

he yells why him 

Even though we both know that 

Max is just a friend. 

Seconds later 

I’m in pieces decorating the bottom of his shoe. 

She holds what’s left of me in her tender fingers for a moment.

Soaked lashes and freckled face,

The chubby-cheeked girl with the warm smile

gazing down at me

before I join the stuffed bear. 

Shana is a Senior studying Media Culture and Communication and minoring in Studio Art. She’s been at Generasian since her Sophomore year and this is the second piece she’s written. She’s extremely proud of this magazine and all it’s done for her.