Seeing beyond pink-tinged glass

makes my eyes water

drops of happiness

and none of pain

Once I lived behind thick walls

that I built in earnest

my eyes cast downward

resolutely at the floor

desperately, to avoid any color

Seeing was not

really seeing to me.

It was only what I allowed myself to see

what my brain would allow.

And now the walls have crashed down.

I’m cold; there’s wind in my face

tears in my eyes

droplets of calm

after the storm.

I see the future

better than now

where my eyes do not hurt.