When they change the way they look at me.

There are eyes that almost dance,
they re-create things that almost happened
in my thoughts
and simple dreams.
They move as if in motion alone,
applied like an implication
that could soak us through our skins.
As we roll back away from all our assumptions
we might become ready for a little more,
but I’ve grown afraid of my own mistakes,
those tiny moments
that haunt me
and remind me
of the simple things
I could’ve done differently,
like the cause,
or the effect
that seems so final
until everything changes hands
and a grip is all you have to go by.
But I remember knowing,
reliving through flashes
that’re so seldom
I find I stop
whenever they stop by,
solely sitting there
in comfort alone
where I can get back to breathing
and work through
these knots and ties
that have taken so long to notice.


About Sean O'Gorman

Spoken Word poet from Ottawa. View all posts by Sean O'Gorman

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