Blind

Blind I remember the first time I saw you.

Not when I stumbled upon your Instagram and saw you in so many places with so little clothes.

I remember the first time I saw you.

Not when I picked you up from the airport. When we exchanged hellos, didn’t touch but smiled at each other awk-wardly. Trying to form sentences and questions that had meaning. Trying to find out if we had meaning.

I remember the first time I saw you.

Not when you pulled off my shirt. Kissed me on the neck, the chest, the hip. When you let me pull down your pants, push you up the bed, and turn you over.

I remember the first time I saw you.

The first time I really saw you. You snorting that line, kissing someone else, yelling at me making me think it was all my fault. I saw you for the first time with him, under him, filled by him. I really saw you and you wanted so bad to hide from me you attempted murder by a broken heart.

I never want to see you again. 

A poem from Prison or Passion

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