Wednesday, June 15, 2016

Drip.

Where has the depth gone?
Has the water drained and we are left
Like fish, struggling to stay wet?
Stay in the depths of our own minds?
Where is the faucet?
I search for that fountain and my eyes glaze.
I lie still, gasping
I break.

Dandelion

So it seems that I'm a ghost now
You see right through me
Then you walk on by.
So it seems that I'm a speck of dust
Hitching rides into the atmosphere
Landing on your cheek
You catch a glimpse 
and remove me
You think I'm something to wish upon
Not knowing that you wished upon 
Precisely what you seek.