I feel like

you are surrounded by

all that isn’t you,

and what I can’t seem to find

is who you are,

I mean,

What you’re truly made of,

Without all the static

And sorrow

That circles around you

Like a forcefield.

And when you speak,

I can see

Sounds slithering

Through the cracks of your teeth,

Turning this way and that,

Til they make their way out of the maze

You’ve carved in your

                                    Throat.

Sometimes

I hear your words

Echo from my ears

To my mind

And I can feel

distance,

In “mother”

and

“home”

And I feel you carry out

The words

“love”

And

 “future”

With gentle pressure,

You don’t want them to fall,

Although you’re sure they will,

And your eyes slip down

To the very floor

And you search for the words you’ve spoken

That have dropped off the cliffs

 of your lips

And you think that no one will

Ever find them.

I hope to have the eyes to see

The ghosts that cling to your ribcages

Like gum on old wooden chairs,

I wish to have the ears to resonate

With the sleepless voices

Hanging off your eyelashes,

The only time I’ve seen those

Voices

Sing

Is when they fly off your eyes

As teardrops,

Coating your cheeks

With symphonies.

Some may fold you up

And label you

As

“lost”

But I think

You know exactly where you are.

It may take some time

      but

The fog

always

          settles.