"blur" a poem in free verse

In the way,
ways in the blur.
Ways in love is blind.
Take away,
I can't smile,
in the way,
turned away,
to the hands,
that carry my eyes,
that are blurred.

Hey go away,
the clarity is cold,
to the touch of clay.

Blown afire,
kiln inferno,
keeps me in,
blurred hands,
that shake away,
to convection,
of innate strains.

Of which,
keep me in,
shove me out.
Love is blind,
to the apathy,
that shall occur,
under which,
her touch,
is of a blur.