this is why

I knew I loved you when I rolled over in bed last night and felt your glasses nestle into my right shoulder.

You finished the crossword puzzle with me and ate ice cream and listened to my fear and fascination with what is yet to come.

Then I got tired. We both got tired.

And in the holiness of the school night, I walked you to the door with my eyes closed, avoiding any and all light.

And when I rolled over, many hours later, and felt the cool of framed and glass on the warm of my skin, I realized.

You left your sight with me.
You left blind and drove blind and parked blind and slept blind alone.

I love you because your glasses have found a new hom beside my bed, atop my air-conditioner.
And you haven't asked for them back.

poetry

away