To the girl sitting in front of me.
You that somehow have found the secret to a happy life please do not ever give a sip of your lips to someone who sees you as ordinary because there is nothing ordinary in being like you, seated on the throne of silent voices whispering: “what happened to her?” just because your legs stopped taking you away from reality a long time ago, I do not know when or why.
Your wheelchair is nothing not than your throne.
I can taste the scent of our sadness in the way you hold your pen.
I feel the gravity pulling you further within your insecurities and I pray, I beg to have half of your strength, even today that I have everything that I need in order to be happy I envy the simplicity of your smile.
I see in it the consequence of a civil war with your injustices. You see most people see your smile as a scar, but I, who I am blind, I see your smile as a birthmark because every time I kiss that smile is me that reborn. They don’t know it, they don’t know about a handicapped love but it’s the most beautiful flower to pick because it survives winter.
We will use my legs to walk away from those malicious voices. We’ll use your eyes to build a new dawn every time darkness conquers our days. I am blind, you are handicapped but our love is so real that I can taste the flavour of your skin on the tip of my tongue even though you haven’t kissed me in years.