What happens after you blink
A walk in a park and one sideways glance at this missing piece of each one that was the other, gazing long and breathing hard, lonely eyes locked, on each other and yonder to the skies, spirits racing the line of the horizon so, that I lose myself in the iridescent mystery that is your iris and I know that we will meet at our twilight spot right on the edge of the woods, third raincloud from the right, to see through the eyes of the woodpecker and tell of the smell of rain and breathe in the woods and each other. I blink and you blink and we’re alone in the kitchen of your apartment, old but so very young, alive yet only just beginning to live. You blink and I blink and we’re back here. staring. awkward. Your eyes are no longer iridescent. They have this look of strangeness. Like you do not…know me.
Posted Apr 11, 2022, 5:58 PM UTC
I really liked this poem. I slightly struggled with the structuring, but I got into it. I viewed it as disrupted stages of a relationship - not a specific story - possibly the imagination of one to come. And I related strongly to the starting point of the relationship of 'a look of strangeness like you don't know me' for you feel like you've known them and it's awkward and saddening to see eyes which don't know you.
Thank you. My original intention was to make the poem disorderly, kinda like how an artist splashes paint on a canvas in a drunken frenzy, and the aftermath is something beautiful. It was indeed the imagination of something that could have been, at least from the writer’s pov. I’m glad you like it✨