The lips move,
Ebb and flow of sound emanates.
Your cheeks stretch,
Nose twitches with expressions,
Brought on by what you're saying.
Eyebrows flowing,
Wiggly caterpillars,
Never evolve to butterflies.
But your eyes.
Ah, your eyes!
They stare ahead,
Not at me,
But beyond.
They crinkle too,
Move, close, open, blink.
But there's this faraway look.
It's like you're simultaneously here and somewhere ahead.
One pair of eyes,
But two perspectives.
One ahead, one flitting between yesterday and today.
A plan unravelling in your mind,
A screw to tighten,
Some loose bolts, scattered, and you're arranging them.
Fascinating.
Ever so often both your perspectives align,
Expression guarded,
Each breath measured.
Something serious is being said.
And you're not a mere person now,
But a bundle of thoughts,
Emotions, insecurities, baggage, and desires.
There's something vulgarly eager about how you wait for my reaction.
Almost like looking at a caged predator,
During the primetime circus show.
Almost sure of what's coming,
But on the guard for one slip.
For it could shatter your life,
Your plans, your desires and your existence.
This is so physical,
So tangible.
Words almost appear on your skin,
Letters, with their own scents;
Taking shapes, only your whole self can know of.
It's so fascinating, this transition.
To think of you thinking what I'm thinking when you share your thoughts.
Incredible.
Think for two, my friend.
But you only live for one.
But for you, I'm but a mere gear in your machinery.
An appendage of self,
Extension of the part of you
That's too full to hold within you.
So you've found another vessel to live it through.
Living for one, through many.
How precarious a notion.
How incomplete must it feel.
How inadequate, how unsure.
Maybe you're not even living for one.
You're the ring master to your own conscious,
But, predators hunt sooner or later.
Is that what the duality of your eyes is birthed of?
Fear of the impending hunt.
In all this excitement,
I forgot.
I was thinking about what you were thinking,
While you thought about my thoughts.
Maybe I'm living through myself,
Though you living, through me.
Wonder how many perspectives of sight I have.
