I hate this haze
Of hurting red
A life so drained
No wail on my lips
Not a tear to shed
An abyss of dreams
Going down, down, down
There's no bottom
No walls to hold
No sea....yet I drown
My feet are not wet
No gashes on my skin
No scars to show
How my heart bleeds within

But does it bleed?

I used to feel trickles
Of a flowing warmth
In another life
Another age
A long forgotten want
If wishes were horses
Maybe beggars would ride
But I would just ask
For some tears,
Some blood
A thorn in my side
Some hurting
Some needing
A yearning that cries
Anything
But this stoic acceptance
Anything
To remind my desert sand
That a weathering wind
Is still alive!

© Manic Sylph 2016