I am blind, but I
feel an unwavering certainty that
I am not alone.
I know this as a truth,
yet I wonder if through this
leathery skin I will recognize
your entry.
Or if you will recognize mine.
Through every passing month
without you I have become *****
I can’t help but wonder if you have too.
If we have become too
ruined to see each other for what we truly are;
a pair.
But I keep my dirt lodged in the
crevices of my sole
and continue to walk alone,
and with every passing brush
I imagine your gentle tongue discovering me,
and I am happy.
Nov 24, 2012
Nov 24, 2012 at 4:43 PM UTC
I am blind, but I
feel an unwavering certainty that
I am not alone.
I know this as a truth,
yet I wonder if through this
leathery skin I will recognize
your entry.
Or if you will recognize mine.
Through every passing month
without you I have become *****
I can’t help but wonder if you have too.
If we have become too
ruined to see each other for what we truly are;
a pair.
But I keep my dirt lodged in the
crevices of my sole
and continue to walk alone,
and with every passing brush
I imagine your gentle tongue discovering me,
and I am happy.
Request permission to use this poem