Intuition

when a cloud
eclipses my face
a brow raises, the eyes narrow

so as to see better in the dark

when full lips
stretch into a thin line
the head tilts, slightly to the right

so as to hear the unspoken meaning

you may think
my piercing gaze
the sign of an inquisitive mind

you’d be wrong

it’s the little man,
awakened by your
near truths, your masked emotions

clawing his way to the surface

to get a closer look
so he can touch you, feel you,
taste the air escaping your lungs

his greatest desire

to be birthed
to be fully grown
to live in the light

will never be realized

for what would become
of the whole
without his watchful eye?

little man…intuition

intuition…little man

Written in response to: Read, Write Prompt #82: Ode to Your Homunculus