Skins are so transparent...
Or perhaps my sense to keen...
I sip my drink and nod my head...
I watch the puppet show...
I try to rest my eyes on the surface you present...
But there you are...
Operating beneath the surface...
So out of sync with your waxy shell...
And if I close my eyes...
your spoken word says so much...
And your silence says so much more.
I feel uncomfortable knowing...
I wish I had no clue...
So I tell you that I can see...
Your shell rebuffs but now the inside is looking back at me...
I tell you all I know in earnest...
I make no judgments...
I only wish to disclose...
Your eyes grow wide when you realize...
You're uncomfortable now...
The surface becomes rigid...
You try to measure what you reveal...
You feel as though I've looked through your open widow...
And so do I
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