OldBlackHare OldBlackHare Poet Free verse

The Many Faces of the Unseen

If it were ever possible to be seen or heard,
it would amaze me
to find myself inside you
my shape carved
by the harsh reality
of what you made of me.

I am a thing—
a jigsaw of
your silent prayers,
crumbs of curses,
you never spoke.

I refract through every lens,
I might appear to fight your demons,
then sit and praise them quietly,
or I might orchestrate their evilness,
just to watch your breathing fade.

I could be the waiter six feet under,
serving dinner to worms,
on a cold night.
I could be the hand behind the barrel,
aimed at your beloved face.

I might be the one beside you,
in your daily ride to work,
or the friend,
who loosens the weight in your chest.
I could be a stranger
surviving on the sidewalk.

I can be the air you breathe,
and still
you would never meet my eyes.

I could be you—
or a part of you
that sparks every doubt
and silences every certainty.

Through my words,
we could face each other,
for minutes,
like a passing coffee,

or for years,
aging quietly
inside your thoughts.

Or for an eternity
walking beside me
unraveling—
undoing your existence.

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