Our Eyes are Never Satisfied

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Our eyes are never satisfied.

We’re stripping the hole,

trying to find a piece that fits

to hold it all together.

We’re building bigger gaps is all,

trying to fill a void.

Our eyes are never satisfied.

Shhh…

I’m trying to hear you in a song.

Maybe since my eyes have failed me

time and again

I’ll use my other senses to find you.

Can you hear me?

I feel my voice fading,

turning into ink,

filling pages.

Our eyes are never satisfied.

Do you think that touch can traverse

time and distance?

I’m hoping it does,

it can,

And there I will hold you in ethereal arms—

moth-like and delicate as touch can be without the physical.

Do I see you?

Or am I just seeing the skin—

all surface and hoping it’s a well?

Our eyes are never satisfied.

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2 comments

  1. “Our eyes are never satisfied.”
    I enjoyed the poem. The ending made the poem complete.

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