The feeling that seeps inside your bones when you wake up from a dream and don't remember anything, don't remember if it was good or bad -
that feeling is me.

When you're unsure if you're truly alone and you check every room for the heartbeat that is just out of earshot -
that heartbeat is mine.

Can't you feel me?

My hands have touched many souls, many heaving chests, many dripping eyes - but it was not of my own accord. Except for you. I've been waiting for you for many lifetimes.

In this life, I know what I need to do. My eyes were meant for seeing yours, my mouth crafted for saying your name, my hands shaped intricately so they can fit between another pair. Your hands.

These are the things I need to do, but you don't exist to me yet.

I'm the one that wakes up in the morning, eyes bleary with tears and the forgotten memory of someone whispering good-bye.
I'm the one that hears a distant rhythm and has to check every corner for the source, to no avail.  

I'm just a girl, waiting.
I'm just a girl, hopeful.
I'm just a girl, broken.
I'm just a girl, leaving.