Turn
the heat down. Shut the water off. Force the door to close.
It’s already getting way too hot in here, but don’t let out the steam.
Bring a drink in if you want to. I hope you stay a while.
Climb in and sit on the opposite side of me, or sit between my legs.
I can look at your eyes for minutes in a daze until you blink.
Watch you scratch yourself in secret, pretend I didn’t see.
We can touch, your feet can meet my thighs and I can rub your legs.
But I look at you instead, in a daze: you never blink.
It
can leave me blind.
You can leave me weeping in the draining lukewarm water late at night.
Leave me blind.
Let the cat in. Lock the door. Turn off the lights in here.
Look around and simply marvel that we can live through this routine.
Pity me, oh pity me. I can’t see through all the dark in here.
Remember then, when you loved me? Back when I could see.
But you left me blind.
You just left me weeping on the cold and empty floor so late at night.
You left me blind.