When the starlight isn't enough
and the moon won't show her face,

tell me,
do you see me?

Do you see those freckles,
and the crooked dimple,
just one,
on the left?

And when I turn,
can you see
my dark hair dancing
as the breath of summer
follows me
to the back door?

When the light is gone,
do you know who I am?

Can you see the curve of
a sun-kissed nose
and pale shoulders
through the
black empty air?

The beating of
moths' wings
and the soft trill of crickets
can't seem to distract

from the sounds
that your eyes make,
tracing each step I take
away from you.
from the thump of your
heart beat -
from the swell of your breathing -


if you heard
that black empty air
filling my lungs,
would you know it was me?

Would you know
from the soft echo
beneath my ribs
who I was?

Can you

learn the sound
of my silence?

teach me something
about myself
with just your
hazel eyes?

Learn me slowly,
the way
leaves learn to sway
in the breeze.


And when you know me by careful starlight,
when you hear that echo in my chest
when you can count my freckles in innocent darkness,


take my hand.
walk me to the door.


                 tell me what you see.