
Sometimes
I look over at you,
or I hear you speak
and I think,
‘I hardly even know you.’
But it’s not in the way you look
or even what you say
that the knowing
exists.
I know your heart
and how like
to my own it is.

Sometimes
I look over at you,
or I hear you speak
and I think,
‘I hardly even know you.’
But it’s not in the way you look
or even what you say
that the knowing
exists.
I know your heart
and how like
to my own it is.