I am the glare of illumination at the ceiling of a basement I've never slept in.

I am the cement that holds together the red brick of a library,I've never read in.

I am the number 10 that hangs in that time circle they call a clock.

I am the word you feel when there are no words only emotions.

I am the preconceived notion you have towards the people you see often, but have never really met.

I am that boy you momentarily weeped for on the cover of that magazine you peaked through while buying milk at the grocery
I know you saw me
but it's okay i don't blame you.

I am the fascination that you have for that lady who may or may not exist the one with the dismal green-martini eyes.

I am the differences that you and I share, and how it's always going to be complex but simplicity isn't whats preferred.

I am kind of like that person whose beauty you still can't comprehend but the sound of there voice not being around is a pain no actress could pretend.

I am the nonexistent tear that got away when no one was looking, after daddy left.

I am the urgency to be scared when you're 4 and mommy doesn't hold your hand when it's time to cross the street.

I am the song grandma hums when it's just too, quiet.

I am the the verbal and nonverbal charade you play, when everyone else is around.

And on occasion I'm that strand of hair, that finds its way to your mouth, the one you're morbidly repulsed by even when it's yours.

Most of all I am the African songstress, that doesn't need an applause to know that I did good.

I am done now.