Sight Unseen

Life and loneliness are virtual synonyms.

Such was the opinion of a newlywed man, expressed in a somber, even tone. Alas! A lad's darkness a lass heals not. She may be a respite here and there, but his cure is beyond both him and her.

What am I to another or another to me? It matters little who it is, whether stranger, spouse, sibling, friend. It seems I am an onion mask. I am what I seem, I cannot lie. But behind each mask lies another, each one a different piece of me. You might peel away a layer or two, but none may see the core, who can't withstand the tears.

And what of the stinging dew, the pungent but inviting scent? I may draw close to you and long to let you in. But I can't endure it long enough to land, recoiling for fresher air and drier eyes. My own offending middle I dare not share, lest I likewise make you wince and tear.

To see each other must we shut our eyes?