Friday, September 16, 2011

Nothing at all

Time slipped through her sweaty palms
And she slipped through her existence
Pleasing and laughing
Her demented self
Dragged itself in the motionless calms
She feared the fire, as it chased her
Every candle she lit, burnt her down
Sometimes slowly, sometimes at once
Her charred remains fell on the tired earth
And she rose again to walk
She lifted her hands and touched the humid air
It touched her back
And ran down her neck as a curious drop
To disappear in the melancholy of her skin
She laughed again
The wind tried to plait the whims of her hair
And the grass wept below her naked feet
She felt nothing and spoke much
Of care and promises
She sifted her heart through the sieves of hope
To find a morsel of feeling to feed upon
Hungrily she looked, starved and white
But alas! Everything she had devoured
To bring her back after she lay dead every time
Her ghost smiled and shrieked
She fell down on indifferent sands
the Sun in conversation with musing clouds
About a woman who is so dead yet not
The sands took pity at last
And hid her under their whispering prisms
Come they said, come back to where you belonged.
The candles melted away.

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