Hello Beautiful Thinkers,
I’ve been thinking about the inability to know everything about a person. Every moment that we spend alone or apart from someone else is a moment that they can’t know. And while yes you can tell people about things they were there to witness, it’s never quite the same as being there. Write a poem about the idea that our knowledge of each other will always be limited. How close is the closest you feel you can get to another person? How well can we know each other?
Keep Dreaming Beautiful Thinkers,
The Boy In The Heart Shades