a poem.

She waits,

She waits on the cold lonely night,

Remembering the times, the smiles, the warmth.

She hates,

She hates the memories in her mind,

But she loves,

She loves how they flick on the light of her soul.

She is nothing,

She is alone,

All she ever wanted is so close,

Yet completely out of her reach.

She is suffocating,

Suffocated by memories,

Memories and dreams,

The reminiscal slowly wears her dow,

Grinding her bones,

A dead weight chained to her soul.

She cannot escape,

She opens her mouth,

But only she hears her screams.

The screams grow louder,

The shrill more unbearable,

The volume of desperation.

Her mind, 

Her mind is cluttered by the noise, the screams,

The screams that only she hears,

Trapped. She is alone.

And she waits.