somehow
every person I see for the first time in my life
tries to teach me how to see properly.
not even to look,
but to see.
thinking that I’m blind,
perhaps,
or can’t use my eyes in the right way.
the thing is…
I know how to use them perfectly.
surprising, isn’t it?
out of sixty percent of people who forgot even how to listen
I can do both.
my sight is sharp enough to see the reflection
of a dying smile
or
fear in fingers
clutched on the sheet of paper.
I can see the nervousness in the curve of a neck,
the glance following my moves
with sharp attention.
relentless.
glass-like.
looking for a weakness.
the glance
which supposed to be hidden.
I see it better than it seems.
my eyes are sharp enough
to see
the concealed demonstration of dominance,
the roots of intruding
into someone’s personal space
and
the perfect realization of it.
aren’t you a little queen
of your small insecurity-based kingdom?
I can see that too.
and it is actually sad
to see someone
who is unable
to build a kingdom on the fruitful land
with anything but such interference.
and still
every person I see for the first time in my life
tries to teach me how to see properly.
06.02.2019