She said nothing. Not even to herself.
There was nothing left to say. All the words were gone.
How many times have you really looked her in the eye?
If you had, you would have known.
But how could you know? She never let on. Not once, if ever.
She’d kept it hid. So much it never even was.
She would never know what it was to love. The things you know could fill an ocean.
Where to now? What, next?
Mirror my mind
Manage my soul
who keeps me I’ll at ease
out of sorts
never quite sure
always lacking in some
small way that
at my very being
which has just
here and there