See it Yet?

I’d shave ten years off my existence to see recurring dreams of holding your hand after midnight.
The memory is too close to clasp but too hot to touch.
It’s me I can’t bear to see.
In the mirror, doubt doubles down its reflection — such a worthless connection.
The silence of stillness in blindness is violence.
But what’s to see?
Only what’s become of you and me.
Now that I’d like to see.

(© 2022 AC)

(WattpadAmazon Kindle.)

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