“My daughter is blind and her grade 2 class is exchanging Valentines tomorrow. She brailled “love” on each one and then used a heart-shaped hole punch. The letters in print are so her classmates know what it says.” by reddit user mack3r.
Guys as much as I’d love to have that braille book translated and to mean something, we all know Sammy probably ran out of things to do and Marlene was like “can u go poke a lot of holes in that paper pls its v important”
I’m a young writer. And in my life so far, I’ve always considered life like a brutal poem. For my first tattoo I wanted something unique, special, something that would define me as well as possible.
Then I thought, poetry is the language of love, and love is blind, so this idea of tattooing something in Braille on my body passed through my mind, and stayed since.
“Poésie brute”, which means brutal poetry in French, is now a part of my skin.
Why do I believe love is blind? Because true love is loving someone regardless of their race, weight, religion, gender. Love is disregarding everything others might see as a flaw. “True love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind.”
Even after the time I’ve spent forgetting about you, even after the time I’ve spent without you, even after the memories made my tears this much more real, even after the crying and the sun splashes into my eyes, even after winter’s cruel judgement, even after a year of self discovery about a person that I used to be, even after of my wishes not being replied, even after the text messages run stale, even after fixing the things I’ve broken, even after replaying everything you’ve said in the back of my mind, even after realizing you’d never be mine again, even after the words rang true, even after a past that I can’t get over, even after this little life of mine has dwindled, even after kissing the stars back into the night, even after waking up from a whole day of rest, but only going back to bed because I need more sleep, damn it & even after that I still try to fit the pieces of difference puzzle sets to call my own, I’m made from people who said that love was something brailled into my bones… if you touched my skin, you can still feel every name that has kissed where leaving would’ve been better, you can still taste the salt from seas I’ve come to accept, you can still read about the letters I’ll never send & after that, it’s still–
I wish people would get things published in Braille format more often–I understand it can be pricey and for a smaller artist it’s more difficult, but for people with the resources… It’d just be really nice to have more options sometimes
I do not remember the exact moment I fell in love with you.
No it was more a series of moments that fell into place.
It was the sound of your voice when you first said my name.
Or the smell of your perfume clinging to me after you left for work.
It was the taste of wine on your lips after a perfect kiss.
Or watching you put on makeup as you sat across my lap.
It was you teasing me for smoking “girly” camel crushes.
Or days spent at the dog park in the Texas sun.
It was the night I was furious I didn’t defend you in that fight.
And I knew then that for some time I had wanted you to be mine.
No, I don’t remember the exact moment I fell for you.
What I know is i fell for you like dominoes.
In succession, one by one, everything falling exactly into place.
It was like it was planned, even the obstacles we faced.
And despite whatever hardship it never felt forced.
Thoughts of you scaled my walls with ease.
It was like I had no walls at all. No barriers keeping you out.
I quickly learned that time can be more precious than gold.
Because some people come into your life with numbered days.
And they can either pass through quietly or stay.
You awaken parts of me that morning coffee never could.
And your breath is more intoxicating than my favorite liquor.
The way your skin feels is better than shaved legs on bed sheets.
And your hands move over me like a sculptor over marble.
Like a composer over piano keys.
Like an architect planning cities.
You became my favorite movie on repeat, the climax of my favorite song.
You were like an ice day in Middle School…we don’t get snow days back in Texas.
You were an unexpected break from reality.
An impromptu holiday.
A day spent with friends, in blanket forts with mugs of hot chocolate.
Im sure that If I ever went blind I could still read you this love poem.
I’m fluent in Braille as long as it’s written in goosebumps on your thighs.
And your eyes, are brighter than Christmas lights on a chilly December night.
They are the cool blue of mountain lakes, snowmelt formed, deep and calm.
sunlight reflecting on their glassy surface.
They are green like the moss on the logs of that lakeshore.
They are the grey of storm clouds rolling over those mountaintops.
Full of thunder and rain, flashes of lightning flickering within.
I am standing outside, palms outstretched, waiting for your downpour.
I am diving in deep, no thoughts of resurfacing.
You are lifelines. Kite strings. Endless possibility.