In The Eye Of The Beholder

On the  wings of her imagination, she takes flight into the ether,

Sadness reflected in her iris even as she ascends the heavens,

For she knows the vastness of space holds no heart to meet her,

 

The arms of solace being the only ones to share the night,

When chills creep into her heart beneath written sheets,

That continue to descend even as she herself takes flight,

 

In that unfathomable grey area, where metaphors wander,

Pens are rife with the unspoken and the ink of cleches,

But she has not the time to fritter and squander,

 

Silence meets apathy on the edge of  lonely lips,

No more will she sing to the deaf ears of heaven,

As with a whisper, into the shadow she slips.

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