See it Yet?

I’d shave 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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