when i write about you i always write it twice

one in words you can read

one in braille

as painstakingly difficult as it is to put myself onto the page and bare my inner thoughts to you

to take the time to raise the little bunps on the sheets of paper you’ll never see

i’m not good at expressing these things in words

even worse at languages i cannot speak

languages like love and hope

i’m fluent in loss and pain and tragedy

i can write to you of the feel of heartache all day

but i cannot tell you what you mean to me in a simple phrase

how my cheeks hurt because i cannot recall smiling so much in so long

how i would gladly give up everything if i knew it would make you smile half as much

the ache that isn’t an ache but is as i lay counting sheep that aren’t sheep but are instead your words echoing in the halls of my mind

how the ceiling holds hidden shapes but all i seem to pinpoint is your smile

when i look up at the stars and hope they are lucky enough to look down upon you and bask in true beauty

i cannot write these things in a way to convey the thoughts in my head

so i fumble along

writing what i can

twice

one in words you can read

the other in braille

one in clumsy words

the other in painstaking detail you will never see

in a grid of six

using the nib of a pen to gently push them out

because if love is blind i need to be sure it can read the words if i’m ever going to say them to you

maybe one day i’ll only write them once

or i’ll just say them out loud

and you’ll hear them

hear me

until then i’m getting my practice in

two dots, middle left top right

space

all three on the left, top left middle right bottom left, all three left bottom right, top left middle right

space

top left bottom left all three right, top left middle right bottom left, top left bottom left bottom right