Of You, I Know Not

I know you don't see me out here in the dark

But that is where I stand when you think you're alone.

When the air is too heavy, and the water too thick,

It weighs on me too with you in its wake.

A blurring in passing, a static in spot,

Existing in half-lives when you're not a whole.

I'm the dream that you have of meadows and sun,

The silence that sits when you've just gotten home.

Of you, I know not.

A home to be found.

But a home is a home.

No matter the grounds.

Asking for faith from an abyss that's so dark,

It's unfair on your mind and unfair on your heart.

I speak to the walls, who've grown quieter since

And ask the wind to bring me a soft, distant thought.

Blindness is only filled with grim sight

Of all that you've done and all that you might.

Take from me what I can't offer myself,

A blanket to safety and a moment of truth.

Of you, I know not.

Yet know in you too.

Like a solemn melody

That's lost its way to you.

Syeda Erum Noor is dangerously oblivious and has no sense of time. Send help at erum.noor1998@gmail.com