Under a Focused Lense

December 6, 2017
By gillijam GOLD, Murray, Utah
gillijam GOLD, Murray, Utah
14 articles 0 photos 0 comments

I heard your shaky breaths
The lingering echo of pen on paper
And the absent minded popping of knuckles
In full, surround sound

I saw the paint on the inside of your ring finger
The stray strand of hair
And the snagged fibers of your sweater
In clear, high definition

I felt your rapid heartbeat
The rough pucker of your calluses
And felt the vibrations of your voice
As if I were not an outsider

I smelled the trace of almond on the base of your neck
The lingering touch of cedar
And the pencil led on her fingertips
As if you were your own candle

I tasted the stale air that had settled in your old pick up
The coppery electricity that danced across my tongue
And the tang of salty tears that streamed down your face
As if you were a cough drop, lingering and lasting

That’s the way it had always been with you
My senses heightened by your mere presence
You were always painted with a finer brush
Then the rest of the world

Your stormy greys stretched wide that night
And I saw your ears prick at my name
When I realised, perhaps I wasn’t the only one
Touched by this strange sensation


The author's comments:

A cronic case of selective atteniton


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