I wouldn’t say my mind is racing,
but it does focus on you, a lot.
I don’t intend to, honestly.
Something just keeps drawing me in.

Perhaps it’s the mystique of our parting.
Is that dramatic of me, to call it so?
It feels accurate,
especially while I sit here,
wanting to understanding that which
I don’t think I’ll ever get to know.

I want to step into your mind,
curl up on the floor and watch.
I don’t know what I’ll see, but
what I’ve imaged
is vibrant and heartbreaking.

Those words don’t even begin
to describe it though.
How could one, anyways,
illustrate the intimacy of another’s mind?

Maybe, if I got the chance,
I could try to paint it for you.
I’d show you your world
through my eyes.

Wouldn’t that be crazy?

I wonder what I would look like
through your eyes.
Would I even recognize myself?