She is my breath.
I cannot breathe without her
Yet, suffocating I dream.
She is a puzzle
I cannot piece together;
Incongruent lines shape her soul.
She is a flood
All consuming and exhausting,
Yet I would gladly die in her depths.
She is a song
That I could never sing,
But never could leave unsung.
Her laughter is a waterfall
Her words are like rain
Her smile an oasis in my pain.
Yet, I am foolish,
For all this is of not.
For she is a painting
And I a stranger
Puzzled by the flood of breath I’ve lost.
Moonlit Poetry 