she yells from the bottom of a well,
thinking someone will hear her.
no one does, so she climbs.

as she's climbing, she hears a voice
that voice sends her tumbling
toward the bottom of the well.

she yells until she can't anymore
bursts into tears, curls up into a ball -
and desperately wants to be heard.

the brain is a filter
severing unhelpful connections
we try to hold the smoke
of rapidly fading memories
yet it passes through our fingertips.

since we worry about what we lack
the loss of memories may create a void
yet that same void can hold
new, tangible memories
ones that help us grow.

underappreciated-
most do not see her beauty -
their dreams pull them away.
some eyes burn from the midnight oil -
to them, she may seem like a hallucination.
others run too quickly to start a conversation.
a rare few wait for her -
they appreciate her beauty,
continuing the conversation in awe.
she does not live for the people of this earth,
but she provides for them no matter what.

the threads connecting us
to our loved ones
need to stay strong
like spider's silk
to survive this battle.

she waits for the days when their eyes will meet again. the days when his arms keep the rest of the world out in order to let her in. the days when his smile beckons her to drop the armor at his feet and present her raw, vulnerable self to him. the days when her eyes drink him in slowly and deliberately to savor the memory.

until then, her laughter rings out over hundreds of miles. his caring questions touch her heart just the same. his musings about random topics never fail to rivet her. her smile lingers long after their talks, and her love never dies.

after a long monsoon,
the sun dries the cloud's tears.

my love for him
is intricately woven
into my body.
the loose ends are
tied in a perfect bow
on top of my heart.