All I can do. Listen to the sound of running in place. One open eye,
peeled back from sight.
Where do I look? What do I do?
Who can you trust in this world? Really. I have always trusted.
In you, in me, in
all of them.
But I may have been wrong. And so now I rest with me.
Do I miss you, or sharing me with you?
Who will listen? Are we lost?
Is this forever or never?
Do we ride alone, or are we intricately tied together as to just feel separate.
All I want to do is reach out, to express, to scream, to pull back and bend. Deeply.
But nothing comes out. It pours then vanishes. Never to exist, simply lost in the mist.
I was so close but it slipped between my fingers,
silky milk like snow white. So striking in her winter pale-
With deep black framing her light-
Poisonous apple of delight.