What do her eyes see when she turns to look at me?
Do phantasmagorias plague her every waking moment?
Her glare makes me uneasy, uncomfortable, queezy
She peers around corners and through dark doorways.
Eyes widened like she cant believe what she sees.
As if she expects to see something that does not belong.
Almost as if she is searching; searching for something not of this world.
She (who will remain nameless) will walk outside in the 17 degree weather with nothing but a short flimsy overcoat; one that would be suitable for Fall but not this bone rattling weather.
When asked 'Arent you frozen? '
'No' is her response.
This leaves me bemused and nothing short of confused...
She smokes more than the Smoking Man; a character from the 'X-Files.'
Leading me to the conclusion that if she were able to breath smoke instead of air, she would...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem