static

she looks up at me with eyes hidden, almost locked, behind thick bars of hair that reaches all the way to her small nose Hair discolored like dry straw, second in paleness only to her ghostly face She doesn’t stare too much because there are other things to see in the room She moves on. Not knowing that I also stared at her. Into her soul I’ve spotted an unquenched cry there The easiest to recognize is the cry of loss and that’s what I saw there paired with the cry of want She wants to get away from here Far, far away. She wants to go and never stop. Wants to travel into forever and I’d like to take her there But alas, I am stuck here onto this wall frozen in time I’m a static painting And my cold words void of any vibration will never reach her I have to make my peace with it. Yeah, some people just don’t read poetry. And even if they do, what are the chances they’d read mine? Wow, what a fool I can be at times But, well, at least I have my dreams and myself to laugh at You don’t need much else in eternity

static

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