to myself, your mind silent and
invisible—a shuttering of thought,
a blind kiss of faith. I can’t hold you.
A stranger went on vacation, captured on camera
your smiletouchlaugh and held in his hand
a glimpse of you. Lies. The mind lies,
spins stories, wreaks reality wretched.
Don’t look at me, you used to say.
You used to say I was so painfully open
you could see my mind spread out
in the shine of my eyes.
A mind can ask why, too.
Why is it your eyes, mine.
Why is it me looking, you look and look.
Why is it me, this no one, I am no one--
but I want you to look at me,
heart of my heart, see the certainty in me
and hold it.