Silent mirrors stay as a hanging witness, it's ornate wooden frame soaked
in the moist of the hot vapours of water steaming hot;
just not as much as the ones that ran down her cheeks.
She cries in silent desperation lying white lies hidden behind blatant
words of consolation flying with the winds, unsated;
for her ego approached none to let them be uttered.
She wandered through roads she didn't know of,
on swings high, not touching the ground..
in cemeteries overgrown with green and the dead
and many a page's quick perusal
while her soul flies elsewhere;
jumping signals and passing through
small kids with blue balloons in their hands, a glee she once was.
She sought out a way that will seep through the macabre of
not realizing dreams or living a few words,
to see some smiles and steal a few hugs..
She only has it just looking back through the reflection of someone
she barely knows;
Staring back..
a hazy form merging with dank tears and
hot water running cold.
Hemu
Image from the internet
