Poems (collection 1.0)

Invisible

You looked at me as if you were looking right through to the other side, as if I were as clear as glass or not even there. I wondered if what you saw was distorted by my glass shape or if, instead, I was completely invisible to you, like still air. I found myself hoping that I was at least real enough to you that I cast a slightly different view by the bending of light. I hoped that I was not completely invisible to you now, as if I had been erased so thoroughly that not even a faint outline remained. Please tell me that I have not been completely wiped away with the eraser shavings, but that I still am there just enough so you can see what might have been, that there is still a small bit of pencil lead that remains there in front of you and not just a blank sheet. I could not bear it if all you saw was nothing of me.

Because I can see all of you.

In fact, I can see so much of you it has crowded my vision, interrupted my mind, impossible to ignore. You are the imprint on the backs of my eyelids when I close my eyes. When I see you, you are all I see, and when you are gone, I see the memory of you where you have been and in the faces of total strangers. Why is it that I see you so much when you are not even there but you may not even see me at all when I am right in front of you? It is as if I have stolen your sight. I would give it back if I could. I long to give it away. Then I could be free from your haunting of me, your tormenting. You do not know how it feels to have so much of a person and yet still have nothing. No, you do not understand. All I have is a ghost. And you, well you do not have anything of me at all. No, you do not even see me. I am invisible.  And I have nothing to offer, because you don't know you are missing anything, because I have been erased. And you cannot want something you do not know exists.