I look out the sides of my eyes now.
Blur my own vision so I can see you.
Going sideways, the fervent typist with an americano
becomes you.
You are back in my space, though fleetingly.
For when I turn my head, to take all of you in
the illusion of you abruptly fades into caffeinated reality.
Your presence no longer imposing, comforting, there.
You will always be on my periphery.
Sep 2, 2014
Sep 2, 2014 at 2:50 PM UTC
I look out the sides of my eyes now.
Blur my own vision so I can see you.
Going sideways, the fervent typist with an americano
becomes you.
You are back in my space, though fleetingly.
For when I turn my head, to take all of you in
the illusion of you abruptly fades into caffeinated reality.
Your presence no longer imposing, comforting, there.
You will always be on my periphery.