The Writers Voice
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So you think you can wrap yourself in sidelong glances,
And knowing eyebrow raises?
Does that make you immune to the eyes that look
For some reason, it seems, you hide behind
the motivations of others, silent desires
in the night. Looking at them through
all too serious eyes. You're thinking that
tomorrow may bring another set of…
Of what? Don't ask me such serious questions
so quietly. Don't look away when you say things
that have weighed on your mind. Unless your head
is too heavy to see me. Unless your head is too
light to care.
And should it matter, those three minutes?
Or was it an hour?
Does it matter, if it's time spent with someone?
Does it matter, should we get lost too quickly
in that are a maze…amazing to us?
Or to those that sit idly by, chewing on their
indecision? What do they think, when they look
through their glass walls, daring not to throw
phones. I could wonder that this communication
barrier, isn't so much based in insecurity…
…as it is based in your own tragedies.
Your own personal betrayal, thrown at your
face. You couldn't even drive away from it.
Here we sit, facing each other.
I see you.
You see a flutter of wings.
What a great feeling.
People are mirrors to us.
They reflect what we show them.
Maybe you look away…
because (have you turned from the page yet?)
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