The silence that comes to my eyes
when they are closed
is one of which all other senses
my ears cannot ignore
and home security systems.
My tongue cannot ignore
the taste of my toothpaste,
or the remnants of my late night snack
as I struggle to fall asleep.
My skin cannot decide
if I am too hot or too cold
if the blanket is itching me,
or if I just need
No matter how ungodly the hour,
baking bacon and burnt toast
can wake me from my slumber,
my nose is immune to my brain’s protests.
But, with a swift slide of the lids,
my eyes can be immersed in darkness.
I can be alone in a bulletproof room
as far as the eyes are concerned.
What the other senses forget
(or choose to ignore)
is that my eyes are the ones who cry.
They cry because
when you crawl into bed,
and turn off the light,
that is where their day ends.
They cannot feel the warmth we share
beneath the sheets
they cannot smell your hair
as it brushes against my face
they cannot taste your candy lips
and they cannot hear you whisper
for me to come closer.
All of this magic
happens without my eyes knowing.
If they could see you in this moment
When you pull me close
And beg me nearer
I can safely say
I would never see the same again