she was haunted.
a bad dream and harsh reality,
she swallowed the salty saliva,
her day consisting of whitewashed daydreams,
constantly drowning her in thought.
consumed, she sank further, this unattainable bliss.
the ocean always tasted louder than her throat could handle.
its curves and sprays a reminder of love’s beginning and bloody end.
Her film reels of dashing arms, hands, teeth, eyes…
strangers, everywhere, replaying her reel,
wrapped around, one, two, beings, strangers… actors, beggars.
fully in love? full in love’s lovely, bony cracking marrow.
a splinter’s reach from boiling, breaking, falling?
ah, but rising - that’s love’s catch.
it was only a movie, these - strangers, or, imposters.  yes...
upstairs she always crept,
into a dark attic, below the clouds, above her shoulders.
she begged her soul to reach these two places at once.
to grasp her clouded desires with life’s constant swirling orb.
such a challenge… such a reach… commitment-phobic.
her wants and desires.
her reality and fears.
only to wake each morning, dreading
this weary angst of push and pull,
love loss with life’s luster all around her, 
yet she, always sitting still amongst the sides-lines.
never cheering, only to shrug, her eye-rolls a cowardly stab of their,
and only to turn away, backing farther into her cave.
a dark pattern of filigree dreams and feathery films, 
dusty, dreary, desperate for an ear, 
a touch, a shadow of hope.
misty eyed, shadow’ed light and hazy colors,
all surround her battered thumping, heavy arteries.
her legs were fatigued, a shell of armor she carried, 
but silently looking for a knight, 
with a hammer or a sword.