I think so
But I'm not sure
You know what i mean?
Me neither

Note of a piano
Noises from an instrument
Noises that I know
Unfamiliar to my brain.

A line of music
Noises from a song
Noises that I picked
Never remember anything long.

A piece of poetry
Words from literature.
Words that I wrote
And I'm not even sure.

I'm not quite sure how I got here,
Or why your stare makes fear feel safe.
It's like you can read the aura of me,
But maybe you just read my face.

You cling on tightly to my hand,
And search for secrets in it's embrace.
But, you'll find no truth in reading my palm,
It's all written upon my face.

I'm not courageous, and nor am I bold.
But hey, at least I've got your hand to hold.

Looking down the corridor I see a
door that's being held open for a
man who wears two eye patches, a
frown seen somehow in the dark
outline of his silhouette-

I don't get how he's doing that, what? huh?

Tearing through the crowd of men looking down
I see a dent in the ground and I
narrowly step to avoid the
hollow tile, my eyes widen
I realize that he's gone-

Why was this man walking blind so strangely?

Then I see, everyone has left this place
I pace looking for a space to see
just how everyone has left me, I
can't fathom what magic, where,
where does this corridor lead?

The door reads: "To my friends I left behind."

How asinine.

Look, the blue sky arch
is up until now
an upside-down cup!
The juicy bit, for sure,
is down on the veiled earth.

he introduces himself
saying quiet, but slipping in, firm:

“something he knows for sure,
no is no”

I, (19, f)

replying, smiling
saying louder, firmer:

“something she knows for sure,
yes is yes”

and he says

“yes, ma’am,”

returning her smile, so shyly,
while blushing, so loudly,
thinking he said something dumb,
looking down at his shuffling feet,
covered in worn out cowboy boots

I like this guy
I like this man.

maybe I'm exactly like you
but I'm not you
and I'm not sure