she looks up at me with
eyes hidden, almost locked,
behind
thick bars of hair
that reaches all the way to
her small nose

Hair discolored like
dry straw,
second in paleness only
to her ghostly face

She doesn’t stare too much
because there
are other things to see
in the room

She moves
on. Not
knowing that I also stared
at her. Into her soul

I’ve spotted an unquenched
cry there

The easiest to
recognize is the cry of loss
and that’s what I saw there

paired with
the cry of want

She wants to get away
from here
Far, far away. She wants to go
and never stop. Wants
to travel into
forever

and I’d like to
take her
there

But alas,
I am stuck here onto
this wall

frozen in time

I'm a static
painting

And my cold
words
void of any vibration
will never reach her

I have to make my peace
with it. Yeah, some
people just don’t read
poetry. And even if
they do, what are the chances
they’d read mine?

Wow, what a fool I can be at times
But, well, at least
I have my dreams
and myself to laugh at

You don’t need much else
in eternity