Their eyes are green, they say, and yet they are sometimes blue and sometimes grey. You can see sorrow and ghosts in their beautiful complexion, even when they wear their brightest smile.

Sometimes there are tears stains that adorn that fabulous face. Sometimes their eyebrows are furrowed so far one wouldn’t know how it’s possible. And sometimes they smile like they’ve been given the best gift in the world.

A face that sometimes wears a mask of another. A face that has been through so much and still stays strong. “Aren’t they broken?” They say.

I tell them, “They’re perfect.”