All My Senses
You say no one sees you.
I see you.
I see the inner kid in you
the one most people miss.
I see the need to be clean
the order that keeps the noise quiet.
I see the dreams
still breathing when no one is looking.
I see the quiet you.
The thoughtful you.
I touch bath water
the way it cools before courage steps in.
I touch puffy eyes
that stayed awake too long for the world.
I touch clothes washed in detergents
most never notice,
familiar enough to feel like home.
I touch foggy glasses
cleared only when you exhale.
I smell food
before it becomes a memory.
I smell blood
before fear speaks.
I smell farts
because closeness has no pride.
I smell morning breath
and know it means you stayed.
I hear the low tones
others mistake for silence.
I hear the inner kid sounds
when happiness forgets to hide.
I hear footsteps running
to check on me when I am not okay.
I hear the small insults
disguised as love,
and the love that does not disguise itself.
I hear my name
when you say it softly.
I taste lips touched by balm
simple, familiar.
I taste the nose
I always taste,
because affection is strange and specific.
I taste your candy
not most people have the candy man.
I taste food passed mouth to mouth
forced, playful, ours.
I taste your recipes
even when you doubt them.
All my senses
lean toward you.
Not because no one else exists,
but because I am close enough
to notice.