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.