I hear and I feel, but I don't see. So if the words drown in your throat before you have the time to take a breath, that's okay. Take my hand and drag it over the etched Braille in your skin. I can't see the depth of your sorrow, but I can feel it. Take me through each chapter, but don't part your lips. I'll feel each page turn at the tip of my fingers. I can't see the mistakes you tried to erase, but couldn't because the ink stained the pages. But I can feel the history when it slithers down your cheek. I can feel the pain coating my lips as I kiss away the past. I do not need eyes to read the novel written in yours. Just guide my hand, and I'll read all the things you are too afraid to say.
YOU ARE READING
Imprisoned Thoughts
PuisiThe thoughts that will never leave my lips. And with little hope, will never leave yours.
