A quizzical creature bundled down. Quilted together, cut, from the same cloth - different scissors. Warm until tattered, somehow catching wind. A tired, musty dry line sagging and swaying. Moreover, the unreachable often still reach you. Crooked, but as usual, the only one in town.
A novelty, she turns each page with as much emotion as she reads. Petals pressed, feathers caught, stories from the back of the book; pages no one else sees. A leak in performance held by drying wrinkles. I stared at each word so long, clinging for dear life to everything she whispered, the slow march of typeface across skin. Dangling by fear and craving off the sidewalk’s end.
Of all the colors counting my favorite one is you. I couldn't be more happy if all the snacks were blue. Statistically speaking - tongue tied - vomiting words, but all completely true.
My mind buzzes over you. No use hiding from the truth. I hope it’s coming, what we’ve got coming - I need it. I need to feel inside, a castle on the hill with faces in the vines. I need you. No use hiding every night. I see something in your eyes. If you’re not something, I’ve got nothing. I need it. Fuel the fire inside a wood burned stove with glassy eyed cries. I need you. I don’t know where time has gone. Last I seen, it up and run. Ah, but nothing, it’s all nothing. I don’t need it. A crumbling tide. The house fell down, nobody inside. I need you. I need you.
To the editor, I read the signs: many long books, reflections high and low. For a great fear, a life without, alone. Madam, I confess, of my journey far and less; of stars and streams alike. Nothing helped me see. Not the sun behind her, burning in her amber eyes or words within set free. I implore you, find the will. Maybe not a happy ending, but an ending even still.