Floral and flouncy she brushes through,
Energy radiating from her like a tiny perfect tornado.
Lift me up. I need her to lift me up.
I am silt today. No good to anyone.
A bloated mass of drained out goodness.
Whirl me pretty thing.
Remind me that I like to sing.
I do faintly recall, dabbing oils behind my ears
And popping colour on my lips.
But today I am grey.
I think I have no place in this picture.
I want to want it.
I want to crave the light.
But I have no sight.
She is the only link to what I once was.
If she were a color she wouldn’t stay between the lines.
She bleeds through pages and it is her blood I need.
Feed. Feed me.
See more. See more.
I need to see more.