Blindfolded

You've got your hands over my eyes,

and I'm not sure what I should be seeing. Or, for that matter, whether I should be seeing anything

at all.

Or whether my heart should beat quite as quickly as it does,

or whether my mind should spend any time fearing the thought of letting a stranger in my head.

There are some things I no longer know how to do,

and I tire of gray.

So please, be either black or white for me tonight

so, if nothing else, I can learn to sleep again.