Fragmented desideratum.

she looks at me with weary eyes. though her age is stereotyped with exuberance and the luxury of time, her eyes prove other wise, worn down with heavy shoulders and brittle hair. the years of envy and curses that fly by her head have taken its toll on her craved upon vibrance.

she screams in massive thoughts. yet she smiles and overflows with magnanimity. she provides sanctuary to the vile form, that is me. they see the dirt that encompasses my essence. yet she repeatedly tells me through fragrant flowers that i am the diamond that need not be polished. what would i have given for the flowers not to wilt?

everything. everything but her.

the stale smell of the dead and dried petals linger on into my many nights of insomniac memories. reminding me of the well and loved, but now dead and wilted passion that once filled my carapace. the gutter beckons my material body as the chains of post-modernism tear through my skull. knowledge of the revolving world crams my already saturated brain. do i even try and sort my thoughts to clear my mind? never. afraid to lose the few moments i have spent with you. with her.

she. her. you. you fucking obsessive loner. do you not know she does not know you? stop this fucking whining and move on down the path you have dug. clear the way and look up for a change. just look. do you not know she does not bat an eyelid to your tiny existence?

ahh but i do.

but the longing i have for her, is sustenance itself. she sits elbows on knees, and cries the tears which i have shed.

you do not know.

but i do.