Farawayland

Drip-drop of the rain could not conceal running liner, bleeding pieces, inked floor. 

How long did she lay broken, or was she never whole to begin? 

Cloudy sky, stormy eyes, trouble brewed like black cinder. 

When she danced in the petals of the sandstorm blizzard,

Grains flew, digging into her porcelain glass skin. 

She closed her eyes. 

 

Trying to submerge herself in the pitter-patter of the silent stardust shower,

Her fingers laced together against the hardwood tiles running thin.

Voices. Visions. Her senses now blurred, merging lines.

She was starting to slip away again.

But she could not stop

Breathing. 

 

Beyond horizon, luminous deluge cover sun-dried dew, abelia blooming in the distance.

As the fragrance awakened adagios, she stood on her toes dreaming of oasis. 

No more tears. No more pain. No more damns to give. 

She rubbed her eyes once and took a step.

Gently dusting her dress. 

Farawayland behind.