What you don’t see

 

You see a pair of earrings.

Small and silver with black beady eyes,

blinking slowly in the sunlight.

I see the present my grandmother

waited three months to buy when she

was my age,and gave to me on my quince.

 

You see a shaggy, brown stuffed toy dog.

It smells of vanilla and folds itself

into the arms of the hurt.

I see one of the first goodbyes.

 

You see good posture.

I see the emotions behind a face as

cool as a winter’s day,

and the smile that hides the troubles

of a teenager behind a hazy glass.

Practiced over years and years

until it’s too hard to break.

 

You see a familiar quote.

I see the words that ring through

my mind.

More alive than the colors of spring.

Humming in a tone only confidence

can hear.   

Trying to convince myself that I am

what they say.

 

You see a cellphone.

A small black and white box, that

keeps everything under lock and key.

The outside seeming to be as clean

as a blank paper.

I see the funny pictures my sisters take.

Recent memories and the old.

I see the first overnighter, the buzz of a

twirling ceiling fan, mixing the hot air

with a fresh breeze, the tinkling laughter

after the slippery floor catches

us after we fall, not very gently.

 

You see a playlist, musical notes and

the names of famous artists.

I see the voices, as beautiful and

different as twisting sheets of rain,

the voices that got me through me

through the dark.

Helped me enjoy the good.

And pushed my mind past limits.