Close-ups

All I could see of the world
Was a close-up of her face.
My world was her left eye
And seven strands of hair
Backlit by sunlit blinds.
I had stayed with her
Through the night
And wanted to step back
To see her identity,
But was only allowed
To see close-ups.
A wide shot would
Have told so much:
The colors of our room,
Its style and layout.
But wide shots weren’t allowed
So everyone I met was as hard to place
As something seen in detail
Without seeing the rest.
That way, if anyone left,
I wouldn’t care because
I wouldn’t know who to miss.

Just for a moment, I remembered
Seeing all of her last night,
When eyes weren’t allowed to open.
We were drunk, and briefly,
I saw the entire world,
Not just the nape of her neck,
Or her lips when she turned
To make fun of my vision.
I saw too much of the world,
Even its invisible things,
So I took her to a place
Darker than shut eyes.