All she ever saw was light,
Flat expanse of visibility
And orange suns while she slept.
Destroyed shadows with a glance.
Late night reading was not a problem.
She saw everything
Except darkness
Which refused to be pinned
And slipped away from corners
Even as she looked.
When they spoke of her light
Her conversation faltered.
She suffered disbelief
And ridiculed metaphors.
Terribly overrated,
She finally decided,
Unmoved, as befits those
Who have seen it all before.
2 comments:
I'm really enjoying this.Your writing is losing that slightly shadow-reflection-mirroring something else feel.Now,its all you.=)
Shit. Have I mentioned how much I love this kind of stuff?
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