what is it with the eyes
of someone in love
that differ from those who aren't?
what is it with the ears?
why do i long for love
not seen on the mirror?
on the face of my siblings?
on my friends?
on my dogs?
and even all the suns
that rise a hundred times
and the suns
that set a thousand times more
the moon, the stars
that i can almost hear saying
"let us be poetry"
can't even radiate enough light
to illuminate my dimness
by a matchstick
when i've loved them all so dearly
yet can never be enough
to forget the likes of you
is a mystery
remains a mystery
because you are a mystery
that understands my own
and ultimately the answer
that i don't even have
the question for
YOU ARE READING
Unmuffled
Poetrya collection of his thoughts, questions, and manifestations on love and all the in-betweens
