I have misplaced my glasses

Yet it hardly matters

I could easily be blind

So attuned have I become

The cadence of voice

Twisted shoulder slump

Tiredness is a choice

That you don’t recall making

The sock with a hole

Shoes with one worn down sole

Always the one on the left side

It’s funny the things

We can hear

Smell and touch

The things not said

That our feelings read for us

So carefully

Relaying in whispers of touch

Felt in the gut

The close of the door

How it bangs with force

Or clicks gently

The tuneful motor

How it whines and howls

Or rumbles contentedly

The step

Fast, hard, heavy

Or soft and measured

It seeps in through antennas

We don’t even know we possess

And makes its way up to the place in our chest





The heart ticks on relentless


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