14She awakes. Although her eyes are open, all is dark. Everything is always dark. She gets out of her bed and fumbles towards her dresser. She selects by feel what clothes she could wear, and puts them on.
Her soft hands ran over the flawless skin of her face, smoothing back silken hair. She ran deft fingers along regal cheek bones and let them linger on her own finely chiselled lips.
She fingers the cloth around her eyes; the one that stops her from seeing flaws, from seeing life and colour. It is her saviour and her curse. A strand of hair catches around her finger and she detangles it, placing it back with the others that trail in a waterfall down her back.
She smiled slightly, her smile curling around her features gently, softly. It was like her nature; tender and quiet. The material around her eyes scratches slightly and she eases it, wanting to see the outside world. She may not. It is forbidden to her.
She sighs and lets her hands drop, turning to the world of her mind for vision. Again, she sees. The world is a series of shades, textures through the air. She smells rain before it falls, the scent of grass before it is cut. She senses what is before her, feeling the changes in the air.
All senses but one are used to get her through the world. As the personification of one thing, one sense is denied to her forever, and for one reason:
Love is blind.
A/N: Kinda strange, no? Tell me what you think, the idea rose unbidden in my mind and wouldn't go away... it was after reading another poem about blind love