What do you see? 

I caught you looking again, you curious beast. Your eyes flashed, peaked half out from behind your intricately constructed catharsis. 

I don’t look at myself often, as it’s slightly too excruciating. But you, looking at me…

    Do you see my hard and/or soft eyes, focused on puzzles, waiting patiently for the magic, fists clenched. 

    Do you see confusion, directionless motivation, or do you see focus, passion, a coyote of a man bent on senseless creativity, re-invention. 

    Do you see the hunger, coiled and prepped, waiting to unbind from this heat. 

    Do you see the love for family, a desire toward fulfillment, to dive the depths, to crash and burn, to explore, fall, break, and become whole again. 

    Rebuild. 

What do you feel when you touch my hand?

   Can you feel that I’ve been broken, many times over, that my hand is pulling and pushing you closer and farther… simultaneously? 

I try to let go but it just keeps crashing.

   Do you see my cells buzzing, that simple touch is a gift, of connection, something to rest in for just a brief moment. 

   Do you know that your touch is the wind, the moon? 

   Rest

What do you feel when you hold me close? 

    an impossible rush, a terror, relief, love, hunger, heat, a light through the trees, a beam in the dark, a forgotten dream, loss?

   do you feel… anything…?

all of the above? 

    When I see you in my dream in the forest, and there’s no one there to witness, I know the truth. 

In the end, when I look at you, I make up stories, because that’s what we do. Today they tell the tale of your blazing sun, your light in the dark, your strength, passion, the shine in your eyes. This tale is actually a fairly regular one. I wonder why?

So tell me, my sweet-head-half-turned-one-eye-opened-voyeur-of-a-friend, what do you see?