Amorphous, ever-changing, begging to be held. I’ll float to the surface if my depth is too much for you. Does my sensitivity scare you? The way in which the universe not only resides, but expands from me.
Amorphous, yet untethered. My soul soars as if it already resides with the moon and stars. The weeping willow tree holds me with the tenderness I crave. The soft dampness of the earth cradles my feet and the rivers capture my tears.
My keepsakes from museums in Italy will disappear from your vision. The poems that bear my soul will be taken down. The flowers that line my room will wilt. I’ll shed it all if I must.
Or was that not what you wanted all along? Did you want my body and soul too? Now I am left with silence, wondering about my wholeness.
No longer will I sway with the breeze of the sea and the trees.
I’ll scrape my soul barren, leaving only the hard shell of my body.
The Ophelia Edit 