Remember the staring game?
Hour upon hour,
still bodies under perfect command.
Taught limbed anticipation,
fingertips hovering
just above skin.
I felt I could walk along
that invisible line and
dive into your soul. I told you,
“When I die I want to be looking at your eyes,then I won’t be scared.”
Sometimes I saw pictures,
in your eyes, in my head.
Once, a yellow house,
a woman waiting and the word Dar.
You said it meant house in your language.
“How did you know it,” you asked
“a word like that, a world like that?
Incredible,” you said. I told you
“ I saw it in your mind, maybe your past, maybe, our future.”
Do you ever think about my eyes,
and when we lay,
fully clothed
on your bed,
surprise and awe flooding through us.
“Why me, why, us, why now,”
You would always ask this and I would laugh.
“I don’t know, just accept, it is a gift, let us just, be.”
I saw your visions.
Why could you not see mine?