Blankly

She looks out

for something within.

Slowly

nothingness begins

to win.

And with the wind, and the moon, and the stars

She looks

She squints, her toes pinch, and her heart

Skips.

For what was nothing

Became

something, and something

was Just It.

For we reach, and we pull, and we beg

For that itch, for that warmth, for those words that he said.

It wasn’t his looks, or the freckle on his head,

But the time he made you feel

anything.

For once you were alive

and not dead.