When I was small I used to pretend to be blind. I would walk around the house with my eyes closed, or late at night with the lights off, sometimes with a curtain rod, as a guide. Bruised shins. I wanted to experience things that way and I remember thinking Daredevil was so cool, being blind, yet brave.

When I met you, I learned you by touch,
first fingers, haltingly
then your head on my shoulder (long car rides)
then arms around back, yours/mine/ours.
soon lips, soft, slightly open
shoulders, shivering, scented of vanilla
later, scratchy wool blankets covering you, leaving my feet cold
I would sketch your legs, with fingers
and would pull hair above your neck,
combing it with clumsiness

In the dark I did not lose my way
my shins are safe with you

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