the boundary of my blindness

Franco Amati
Published in
1 min readJun 1, 2024


Photo by Junchen Zhou on Pexels

I take my glasses off
to look at you
so nearsighted, I can see
every follicle, every pore
I can see the sparkle in your nail polish
and the shifting facets of your iris’ hue
when we talk this close
it’s like we’re children —
actually it’s like we’re ageless…
it’s the intimate nature
of hushed and playful tones
I’m vulnerable when I can’t see
beyond a few inches past my nose
but it has the effect
of blocking everything else
that’s distracting — the blur of civilized life
— the outside world no longer matters…
the problems of work, so unsettling just hours
ago, start to slip away into oblivion…
the messiness of the apartment,
the fact that I should already be tired by now —
it’s all forgotten
in this peripersonal space,
this bubble, this hiding place
where you’ve met me
at the boundary of my blindness
and have taught me that you do not
need perfect eyes to see,
just as you do not need an excuse to love —
you just sit there and BE
— you exist in the present with the one
person who loves you more than anything

Franco Amati 2024



Franco Amati

Speculative fiction writer from New York. Editor of Scuzzbucket. For published work visit or buy me a coffee at