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MUSED
BellaOnline Literary Review
Tampa Bay Sunset by Lisa Shea

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Poetry


I'll Never Know Everything About You

Terri Simon

No matter how many hours
Iíve watched you Ė
talking, driving, clacking a keyboard, sleeping Ė
Iíll never be able to trace
all the spirals and pathways
of your frontal lobe.
Iíll never know, really, why
you say the things you do,
the sweet cider of it,
the gravel shards of it.
And if I canít know you,
the one whose hours
have turned to years beside me,
whose limbs have entwined
with mine in the dark hours,
then how am I to know
anyone, to understand
the small places, the peeled
layers, the sliced fingertips
of anyone? And who am I
to judge, to place a feather
on the scale,
to weigh your soul or mine?