She struck me blind.
It happened simply,
over time.
My cones and rods simply…
shut down.
I could not take her intensity;
I could not look away.
She moved with fluidity
that graced the liquids of her composition.
I could swear that each atom of her being
had been crafted by the creator with care
above all overs.
How does she move like air,
around a sea of blindness?
How does she speak like silence,
around the crashing waves
beckoning her attention?
She struck me blind.
It happened simply,
over time.
I could not take her intensity;
I could not look away.
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