Monday, March 23, 2015


when I am blind with hurt whatever bralle-
less truth you tell me can't be read

when this pain gropes
my fingers reach for any spelling

hear what squeezes me – I cannot breathe
the counting grows: I'm owed

my blind pain claims its space
for handicaps – it wears dark glasses

when you move toward me
flinches from your touch

because you know I can't see
yet would violate my heart

and you will never
have this chance again


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