It's not a greedy grief
Not flesh and blood longing
Just a craving, wishing, missing
Certainty that a soul
Is not a chalk outline
It isn't erasable
So she searches
In a strangers eyes
A friendly voice
She wonders and wants
To feel the prescence
Of that everything,
That miracle that used to
Be her everyday reality
But has now become her everyday
Fantasy, to see that soul again
she is a vigilante Sleepwalker
searching for Her stolen dreams.
No comments:
Post a Comment