you can be who you are, but learn to see the rest-

you talk about the rain
like it gave you salvation,
but have you ever even 
heard the quiet sound of 
wind blowing through 
the pines?
you talk about the sea 
like it swept you away
to never return,
but have you ever laid 
back in a freshwater pond,
allowing all noise to flow
through the water instead
of your ears?
you speak of the sun like
it had given you birth,
like you had never known
light until you were blinded
as an infant,
but have you ever basked
in the subtle glow of the
moon, and felt the warmth
it gives just by being draped
on your skin?
you speak of the past like
it was the only cradle to
your memory,
but what of the future and
the possibilities you have
let to learn?
you speak of her as if she
was still here, looking at
you like you are the only
piece of art in every museum,
but what of me,
the girl before you now
who does more than fall at
her knees and weep at
just one sight of you?
what of her?
what of me?