Lonely in a sphere full of beings
Severed from souls, detached
From the serrated strings of the heart; it beats
A rapid, pulsating pace; afraid.
The line to life desecrated by death; unhinged.
Left. Lost. Lonely. In a world full of beings
she smiles on the outside while slowly dying,
Looking for a way to live on the inside.
Rejecting the various artifacts,
The ash of your ever existing is all that remains
While she still, sits still, wondering where you are,
When you’ll return.
Seventeen years of tireless never-ending love
The wings are no longer wet. From the nest you have flown.
In the quiet, face pressed against the window awaiting your return
But until then, she reposes lonely in a world full of beings, alone.