Girl

She’s quiet as she sits there peering from that corner.
Her eyes tracing the shadows down from places lost in the noise.
There is an Illusive menagerie of thoughts screaming in her eyes, as her mouth stays pressed and closed.
No hand, no sound can remove her from this cloud but I wish I could fly to feel, to see what she sees.
Maybe she’s not real.
Maybe she’s gone and this is her ghost.
Maybe I’m imagining her just to deal with today.