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?? / perdido
June 9, 2013
I close my eyes, and once again, I’m
drifting, clutching at the frayed edges
of memories, fingers fastened to the
fragile gossamer heart I coughed up
when the train stopped too fast.
I know where I am.
But then again, do I really?
The trees might as well be our souls;
I might as well be as empty as air
draped over hills and valleys and
forever standing sentry to the silence
that is borne from fear.
I don’t know where I am.
But then again, did I ever?
© Olivia E., Alto, MI
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