• I can't see colors from all the way back here.
    There is only black and white
    against their pulled pinkish flesh:
    Dots on rough, creased surfaces.
    They are just holes,
    revealing nothing at all when I'm so far.
    They say nothing at all.
    It's as if they can see right through me
    and are condemning me.
    They aren't just holes,
    they're red-hot coals
    because I can't see the color of their eyes.
    Because I can't see the color of their souls.