Lost

When she lost herself,

her body retained its pulse.

Smoothed the wrinkles on the

bed spread each morning,

memorized the way she paired

earrings with her blouse.

The minutes and hours dangled

and she was left

gazing, unblinking

at nameless people

animated with the diversions

and throes of being alive.

If only she could lick the milky

drippings from their ice cream,

press her ear and cheek to a sleeping chest

to feel through their dreams,

ride the curves and loops of their handwritten letters

into a world of believing

Reviews

[Lydia Shutter]

Honest emotions scattered on the page here. You tell the tale of someone who can not quite fit in...someone who wants to love, but has not experienced it in the truest sense. I liked the way you innumerated her morning ritual of choosing her accessories and outfit of the day...someone merely going through the motions till the real thing comes along...as if she is waiting for Prince Charming to awaken her for a dreary sleep. Well written. lydi**

[MissKayP]

Thank you so much for reading my poem and the thoughtful review! I'm glad it conveyed the message clearly to you.