you aren't that different from me.
when your hands reach down to touch mine,
they have substance, weight, and a texture
almost exactly like my own.
when you speak and my eyes remain still,
beneath lids tainted with the pigments of the earth,
i find denotation and sound aren't changed
despite our stark contrast in shade.
you aren't that different from me.
my world isn't a canvas dictated by color,
by slants, by intonation, and height.
you aren't that different from me but there is difference still;
i perceive depth despite.
