Blindness

Winter.

My skin is cold

For a brief moment.

I find a false warmth

And spring becomes him.

 

I find myself deeper,

Embedded,

In a warm blanket

Of lies.

Of a false face.

 

Warmer and warmer

Summer burns through.

I’m melting.

Tolerating.

Melting.

And finally I solidify

Unknowing of what was wasted…

Time.

 

The weight of all truths

Pulling me into the fall

I’m falling.

Through crowds,

Flocks,

Of false

Fake

Faces.

 

When the cold creeps

Into my bones,

I see

The one face

That I thought to be true

Turn away,

Pushing me into an indefinite current

 

Of cold confusion.

Of a hidden clarity.

 

Forced when others are blind.

 

A face that was once

Warm and true

In my infant eyes

Became cold.

False.

 

He abandoned me.

This poem is about: 
Me
My family
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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