completeness

the window to their summer soul
sometimes swings wide open
vacantly displaying what they think to me

i catch a small glimpse
and feel as if
i can read minds

the shallow thoughts consistantly amuse
the meaningless fluff i encounter
loving the sheer banality of the mundane

yet the curtains are drawn
in retaliation i assume
to the hostility found in me

this is the only time
i can truly find
who sincerly feels kind
and wishes to know the essences of me

i can't bother to think
i'll ever quite grasp
the completeness of another

for i can't expect them
to ever quite grasp
the completeness that is me

the windows of our souls
have quickly in the winter months
become fogged with wasted breath