The Eyes of Turmoil and Emotions
A foreign feeling
Creeps up against me
As though I can intensely feel the chills of his breath breathing hard on my neck
What was once foreign becomes the norm again
But, how so?
I thought that had been left behind
I was so adamant she was gone
Or at least that part of her
But yet I see her at almost every moment slipping back into this cycle
Where she’s both attached and detached from the world
She feels present...
She is present
Yet she feels so distant
As though the world is playing through some sort of TV and she’s both the controller and audience
Dripping back...slowly but surely
She wants and calls for reality to come
To show itself
To remind her of what is real
Without her having constant moments of gasps and wonders of what could have been
As she struggles to hold the tears dropping from the corner of her eyes in public
As she wonders ‘what good that would do’
When no one else appears to see what she can see
Or feel what can she can
So maybe, she’s to be left alone?
Confined and isolated in her thoughts
It seems like the only present solution
As she travels and walks through the world
Endlessly chasing that high and constantly wondering whether it will ever come...
~ Will it?