CALL ME CLICHE, I YET WILL STILL SAY
YOUR HAIR REMINDS ME OF SOFT AUTUMN LEAVES
AND YOUR VOICE TASTES A LOT LIKE TOO-SWEET
HONEY IN TEA
AND YOUR WORDS ARE BEAUTIFUL WHEN YOU WANT
THEM TO BE
THEY ARE SHARDS OF YOUR SOUL, GLITTERING GLASS
OF THE SPARKLING SEA
BUT I STILL DON’T KNOW WHO YOU ARE.
SO PLEASE,
LET ME PEER INTO YOUR MIND.
COULD YOU LET ME WALK AROUND INSIDE?
I WANT TO SEE THE GEARS TURN
I WANT TO SEE WHERE YOUR THOUGHTS BURN
I WONDER IF THEY FLICKER LIKE FIRE
AND FADE INTO ASHES WHEN THEY ARE TOO TIRED?
WHO ARE YOU?
PLEASE, LET ME SEE.