Blogging · Dreams · poetry · Prose

My Senses, Taxed.



not being able
to discern
day from night
out of touch
with myself

Waking up
in some foreign place
someone else’s space
most certainly not

My eyes roamed
the room enlarged
my sight focused
close up, a hand
reaching out to mine

My senses, taxed
outer limited, overloaded
my memory, drained
no names, no clear lights
one face only
it seems

Help me
to remember who
I am
who I was, where I was
when my memory

You have a kind
and soft hands
your smile tells me
assures me
that we know each other
somehow, somewhere

I hope
we have a special type
of relationship
I hope
we mean something to each other
something that will bring me

to know just who you are
to know just who I am

My senses, taxed
tell my eyes to close now
even though
consciousness is losing ground
I still feel
your hand in mine

your hand in mine…




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