Dabble in the dark, and close
Fumbling at buttons, and fall
Reaching out for faces;
Breathing into spaces; bent, she braces
Clawing walls for switches, to see
Counting the stitches she must
It’s not often I write a disclaimer, but here it is. I did not know where this poem was going, and it is not based on any life event I’ve witnessed or been told. Sometimes the words just kinda happen. I was hesitant to post, but it made me more nervous to keep it hidden.