she died today.

her flesh may still move,
just as her lungs inhale,
but her spirit has vacated;
left, is a woman tired.

demons would haunt her night,
thus she prefers the day- however,
waking hours, filled with sunlight,
drench the mind, and
warp the wood thereof.

she walks; staggered,
but this is not where she is.
this is a different place,
a different place for a different
person; a ghost.

and, as the waterglass is filled
with the drippings of sweat,
and the frustration of tears,
the sound echoes, the
drop
of each solitary
drop.

these ghosts have given her withdrawal,
but soon, it may turn to be reversion.

and as this, slight twinge
this aching to escape unleashes,
she has created a loss all her own.

a loss
that i share.

07/20/2004

Posted on 07/21/2004
Copyright © 2024 Andrew S Adams