the braille on her wrists
letter by letter she tells a story a story of ache, a story of joy a story of tears. she writes them one letter at a time. braille on her wrists and the stains on her cheeks. skin and bone. she tells a story. every time i see her, do you think i trace the braille? no. i don't. i’d rather solve the riddles she speaks. i’d rather follow the shine in her eyes. i'd rather uncover the scribbles she makes. i'd rather sing along to her songs. i'd rather find ways to see her shine. her coffee is strong and black, but her pen writes in pink. her shadow walks alone, but her head moves in gardens. her songs are a bit messy, but her laughter is magic. her steps get tangled in directions, but her smile, oh, her smile… if you saw her, you'd know.