Sometimes in the spaces between your words

 I sense the things you chose not to say

 I see the picture flash blindingly clear

 though I try to turn my eyes away

 Often the word you thought and wrote

 in place of the word that naturally came

That you believed lent the verses a ring of truth

 in fact it did give the game away

 The more you try to hide the pain

 the more it grazes against the grain

 The truth is often too mundanely true

 The evasion is what makes it fall through

 Though I smile and tell myself

 The scene that lay bare is just my imagination

 But the more I read your guarded tones

 the less I believe in my justifications

 I wish the sight was not given to me

so that I could be blind and more happy.

© Reena


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