BLIND GIRL
A ghost, a god, a person cold at heart
A drug, a dream, a fate I won't embrace
Though it's not my place to choose, not my life to face
It's yours
It's you
My stranger and my china, my figment and my finding
It's you that suffers highly, ceaseless in my mind
My colour, my blind girl, my ever-watchful reason
Your blank eyes, your blue eyes, staring into me
Straw eyes, salt eyes, scattered full of hopes
Such hopes; they live, despite your blackened maze
And the trying of your days
You're a thread within my head, a purpose, perception; praying on my fears
A reminder of my fortunes: Of health. Of life. Of love.
My blind girl
My fiction
My fable full of truth
Your thirst for sight impales me
Your need to breathe impels me
Lusts, and wants, and longings to live life
My conjured crippled girl; you're a hardship lit by cravings
A ghost, a god, a vigor in my thoughts
A reminder in my mind that fate is mine to guide
That time is mine to ply
That hope is found in darkness, no matter how deprived
I am you. You are me; my conscience kindred taming
My note. My soul; you're a fictive thing within me
A presence I've contrived
And yet you do exist. As sight. As seeing. As a vision that implies
That every flash is favour
And I am blessed to be alive