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Blindfold
October 1, 2011
My thumbs trace what I’ve always known but now, with my eyes closed and touch leading my way, I don’t recognize.
My memories never depended on my fingers grasping to feel, to smother, to ravage.
To inhale with cutting nails, to rip apart with tearing flesh my reality.
I vow to let my other senses disappear more often, and let feeling take me back.
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