Bound by this name, this description, this belonging.
Together, our people surround us, silent as softly falling snow, marking us.
That which went wrong. Those who are left.
Names in a paper, holding a face thankfully unknown. The face that haunts my dreams.
I still see you.
Nothing to it really. Clouds and lead endlessly dancing as each day slips by.
Raw. Elemental. Breathe in, breathe out.
I still smell you.
Be strong.
I tell them I'm trying, but often I'm not. Because right now, I'm not sure if I want to be what they tell me I am.
Because if I am, than you are not.
-- Alexandra Stoehr, Nov. 29, 2012
No comments:
Post a Comment