Was it a tiny coloured line,
was it a black endless nothing.
A bunch of lights, twisted, flipped and drifting
A mass of them, and among this nothigness, a shadow
It had its own charisma,
its own shape
its own personality
It shined, though black
It crumbled, though strong,
and jumped, cheerful,
but it was far,
and the brief and narrow coloured line widened
Days went by, so did people
Did friends, did more than friends, did girlfriends
None of them, full or empty, fulfilled that shape
Nor did they dislike me
I even loved some,
but I didn't
And when I found her,
the woman in the shadow shape,
dreamed I in peace
May 28, 2014
May 28, 2014 at 11:40 AM UTC
Was it a tiny coloured line,
was it a black endless nothing.
A bunch of lights, twisted, flipped and drifting
A mass of them, and among this nothigness, a shadow
It had its own charisma,
its own shape
its own personality
It shined, though black
It crumbled, though strong,
and jumped, cheerful,
but it was far,
and the brief and narrow coloured line widened
Days went by, so did people
Did friends, did more than friends, did girlfriends
None of them, full or empty, fulfilled that shape
Nor did they dislike me
I even loved some,
but I didn't
And when I found her,
the woman in the shadow shape,
dreamed I in peace