Mag

Even in my dreams you blind me.
Not the kind of blind that takes away sight;
but the kind of blind that, taken breathless by a sight
attracts attention to that great sight in such a way
that nothing else can be seen.
For, your colors are the only true colors.
Your contrast stands out against the blackness
like a sunshine of bright eyes,
and waves of hair that inspired the ocean itself.
And now, what of me?
I stumble around unsatisfied;
for, having seen a sight so blinding,
my vision remains imprinted with you.
So now, neither in this world,
or the one made of dreams,
can I ever have an unclouded view.
For you pump through my veins
and haunt my skin's very pores,
and my vision is blinded by you.

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