You painted me with the colour of your insanity.
Detailing the greens of my eyes,
Flecks of gilded crimson.
Brushed the canvas with lies.

Dismembered,
Aching presence.
Phantom limb.
Lasting absence.

Heart pumping
Thumping dully,
Functioning.
Fruitlessly.

Flickered and died,
The flame in my eyes.
Died inside of me,
I untangled your lies.

I tore myself in two when I walked out your door.
With half myself left crumpled on your bedroom floor.
The half I kept were parts I never liked that much.
You were the best of me, was I only your crutch?

To the girl in the library,
This goes out to you.

Incomprehensible.
Mind galloping like a stallion,
Imagination boundless.
Lives compressed into a second.

You stole my day,
And made it your own,
Stood there unknowing,
I belonged to your eyes.

Your bewildering beauty,
Seized my soul,
Held me in our moment,
Lived our future in you gaze.

That instantaneous love,
Shared between the shelves.
Perfect in that moment,
Imperishable by reality.

Home is what you make in the chaos,
A place of you own within the mess.
A bit of self forged understanding,
Finding sense in the senseless.

The North calls her.
Siren song echoing across baron fen.
Pulls at the tartan,
Begs her home again.

That Highland jig,
She remembers with a whistle,
Longs her to return,
To the land of the thistle.