Braille Screams
Within the days,
eyes of ilex
lulling to the
snowy grass.
Hearts and echoes
beating past.
To want them would be
vox and vex;
My love is silence
at its best.
Speak while I am still
a living verb
and not the words
upon my grave.
Consume me like
the ocean waves,
before I am nothing more
than literature.
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