The Same

[asthaoo]

If I put my lips to your ears,
and words oozed out like a harsh gust of wind,
Would they fly in through those caverns,
and remain?

If I touched your face,
and you felt it like a needle into your skin,
Would those impulses
swim,
dance,
run right to your brain?

If my tongue,
could taste your thoughts,
would you let your colours show?
Let them flow out through the cracks of your wall
which you have cautiously built up.

If I could hear your melancholy,
your beautiful, deep melancholy,
would you stop singing of it?
If my ears bled enough
then would you stop?

If only I were exactly like you,
then I could help you.
I could step out of this repulsive ignorance,
and stretch out my hand.