Reason

He would be sure to remember
I was blind when we met...
the taste of saline on my lips,
and all the words I spoke were sterile,
but if you asked me then, I would say
I met no one there.

Sometimes when I exhale now
a minute requiem escapes. One low note
like the dried blood on my sheets.
You would know me if you saw me
I think... because I am sad,
the kind that makes me lazy like he hates,
but when I sleep, I walk
in the country of nightmares
where the silence is louder than his pulse.

What I wished three days ago
was for him to break the night with color.
The winter shades of pale grey.
I know I would see them now,
but he remembered I was blind and brought
me lullabies instead.