No clue
What an honour it must be
To be able to look around
Exist without knowing
Grasping the impact you have
Assuming you have none
No resonance
No echo in the vast canyon you are
What an honour it must be to know,
That for one second
One aching moment
You had been observed
Perceived by eyes other than your own
What an honour,
A privilege it must be
To not know
Not care
Not pursue
The hurt
The wreckage
The quiet loss
Oh what a privilege it must've been, my dear
For you,
Oh so phenomenal you
To not want
Not think
Not at all
Of all that you are
– Silvie















