I know you better than anyone,
she said, with a smile—
the same one that brought me color.

But no color was enough
to erase that feeling—
the one erasing its shade—
the shade of the only color I knew.

But how could anyone read,
when the book is blank?
the issue's in the papers
never in the cover that shields...

But how could anyone know me,
when I'm just a stranger
even to me?

And how could anyone see through me,
when my mind is the papers,
my body the book?

I stared into the dark,
into the empty sky.

She stared through her dark—
She stared through me—
Through her empty sky.