whose face resembles mine
a vast, heartening smile that
matches big pensive eyes
he scans her for words
determined to find out for how long
they linger on her lips.
he doesn't knowI find it difficult
to be around people
to speak my words point-blank
to refrain my eyes from the violent blue.
I am not the poet.
This poem is uniquely self-examinatory, in that the poet is presented from the point of view of an observer until you switch to the subjective case at the end. Such inspiring technique you have, Kenia. To me, you are THE poet.
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