Sensory Deprivation

just because his skin is warm honey

does not mean it will taste as sweet.

 

that was the mistake i made,

when my nose was too close to the

rose petals of his hair,

the smell, deep, pungent,

masking the scent of faded smiles

wafting from the onyx of his eyes.

 

our interactions,

hues of greys and reds,

blinded me to the silence,

that absence of sound that

sewed my ears shut

whenever i entered

the wordless realm

of his mouth.

 

what i could not hear,

i chose not to see,

and so i let myself float

in his chamber,

ears clogged,

eyes shut,

mouth sealed,

body vacant of

the color of my being.

a whitening,

which left me empty

and cold in a pit

of nothing,

waiting to stop waiting on

my own awakening,

ready to come back to myself.

 

 

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