In an upside-down garden
Words puncture holes in her skin
she is distant, drowning in a sea
of Beethoven's ninth, avoidance
seems almost too easy with these
paper thin walls.
Scared and shaking she cries out
for survival, for an angel, for
anything, she searches for a hole,
for the pit of the problem,
did she say something that made him mad?
She's built up a tough skin and the
sound barrier is a little weak
it wasn't her fault, it was just
one of those nights.
Salvation just out of her grasp
she's wrestled back into it again
fighting always for her way out
and not to find a way in.
She's floating in his stream again
his words breaking her heart and
making her count down the days
until she can disappear.
maybe more later
[This message has been edited by Allysa (09-15-2003 02:43 PM).]