In a midst the crowd, she is all the walls and all the time contained there in. I move in a silken daze, begotten of all she is, senseless.
So much white inside her eyes and without, the room is held. I breathe in a silken haze, begotten of all that could be, senseless.
There is glass and silence and pain, in what she is. I struggle in a silken maze, to contain all that I feel, caught in her moment, senseless.Back to Poems