I wish I could lend you my eyes-
not just the color or the shape,
but the quiet way they hesitate
before looking at anything too beautiful,
like it might disappear
if I stare too long.
I wish you could see
how the world arrives to me-
soft in some places,
too sharp in others,
how even laughter
has edges.
I wish I could lend you my brain,
let you wander its uneven rooms,
feel how thoughts don’t walk-
they echo,
they collide,
they bloom all at once
or not at all.
Maybe then you’d understand
why I pause
before I speak,
why I hold onto small moments
like they’re fragile glass,
why everything seems to mean more
than it should.
I wish I could lend you my chest,
just for a moment-
so you could feel
how a heart can be full
and heavy
at the same time.
But even if I gave you everything-
my eyes,
my mind,
every hidden piece of me-
you would only visit.
And I would still be the one
who lives here.