What is it I see in your eyes?

Two windows in the shape of spheres.

I cannot see, so I must come closer.

I squint at the reflection.

My own eyes are still intact.

I know because when I reach up to feel,

they are still there.

The mirror does the same.

Or rather the beast mimics.

The one with a red body englulfed by flames,

rearing horns,

not the least like me.

Still, it is my reflection looking back at me.

But eyes?

But there are none at all.