I asked for peace, one night,
silence,
freedom from all that is,
self‐sufficiency.
I asked for strength,
resolve in what’s unresolved.
Respect for whom I was…
There was no answer.
Surprise, there?
Tonight, I met another queer,
charming, as usual,
a real pal, no less;
no foul, there, really.
Still, it makes me wonder…
What is it, really,
that makes them appear?
What is it, really,
that takes them to me?
Why is it that they’re what they are,
not gals,
not what I dreamt of,
not what I thought they would be?
Destiny?
I wouldn’t like to think so.
My girl in black,
veiled in withdrawal, violence,
painting in blue,
sculpting something
I’ll probably never see.
She talks about her room,
the grey one.
The one without pain,
or the one with.
Dunno. Her art.
Her.
Things I’ll probably never see.