My Eyes

I hear:

Lapping waves.


I smell:

Wood and skin, warmed by the sun.

I taste:

The coffee she drank before she kissed me.

I feel:

Rough wood.

The breeze cooling my bare toes.

I see:


I imagine:

Her face. It’s never the same. Today, I want to brush my fingertips over freckles she may or may not have.

‘It’s beginning. Can you feel it?’

‘Don’t look at the sun.’

‘I know,’ she says. ‘It’s okay. I got those eclipse glasses.’

I see what she sees. I lost my sight in 99, I don’t want her to lose hers.


2 thoughts on “My Eyes

I love feedback!

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s