The emptiness absorbed and trickled down my window pane.
The floor accommodates her in times of loneliness and despair.
To gather the broken dreams in which I hurry to repair.
Wiping away tears that synchronises with the rain.

A bare and empty me.
Who is she?
I, myself and me.
Could easily turn to three?
She questions all of her.
Wondering what they are.
Or could she simply become,
A trail of someone.

The silence twirled around me and danced intimately on my heart and lips.
The drawers accommodates my secrets in my hour of lies and securities.
To think of broken hope known to comfortably through my obscurities.
I breathe in and out my doubts as my lungs rips.

A bare and empty me.
Who is she?
I, myself and me.
Could easily turn to three?
She questions all of her.
Wondering what they are.
Or could she simply become,
A trail of someone.

So I drink my worries from my kitchen tap.
I’m drowning from the drinking water.
And the room of my heart is getting hotter.
But like a rose, my petals are falling, for seasonal changes makes me unwrap.

A bare and empty me.
Who is she?
I, myself and me.
Could easily turn to three?
She questions all of her.
Wondering what they are.
Or could she simply become,
A trail of someone.

The thoughts finally invade asking could she live again?
For her emotions move in motions.
Sometimes straight, sometimes circular and sometimes as the ripple in the ocean.
She remembers who she was, now and once then, for memories are not vain.

A full and fulfilled me.
Who is she?
I, myself and me.
She is easily all three.
She accepts all of her.
Knowing what they are.
Accepting what they could become.
A trail of someone.

Advertisements