i’ve painted gentle pictures on the insides of my mind;
with a water-colored brush, no sense of where to end the lines,
without periphery to guide me, no direction to define
and even less, a sense of definition to entice my eyes.

but as the paint would splatter, there was always more to go,
and once her lovely darling eyes would ask me,
i would find new things to show,
as if they were becoming
an alignment with my own,
she was the only thing that told me
i could find my own lost soul.

and that’s perhaps the reason why
she could not stay to see
if she could be the one
to really help myself find me.

but i’ll always be
...searching,
for more
of it