I cannot see.
Those three words should be so easy to understand.
But they're not.
I cannot see her. When she flys. I cannot see her face when the wind takes her up into the endless sky.
When she smiles. I am sure that it is her smile, not the sun, which warms my face. But I cannot be sure.
Because I cannot see.
I hear her voice, her laugh.
But I do not see. I do not see her mouth widen, her dimples appear, and the joy fill her face.
I cannot see.
No one can truly understand this. Seeing is something that comes so naturally to them. It must be hard for them to understand a world that is without colors.
I do not see colors.
Not Black.
Not the Mocha of her curly hair.
Or her coffee-colored skin.
Or her silky brown feathers.
I can feel them
But I cannot see them.
I cannot see.
Not even black.
Just nothing.
I can feel though.
I cannot see.
But I can feel.
And that's worse.
Authors Note: I was re-reading MR1 for the first time in a while, and then, at two A.M. this pops into my head, and it will not go away. So I write. Just a drabble. ;)
However, feedback is greatly appreciated. No Flames.