SleepwalkingI've been dreaming just a little too much of late,
not sure, maybe disguising how I feel inside,
I'm late for dinners and appointments I haven't made.
I draw circles in my diaries, a colour coded chart
but afterwards, I couldn't tell you how apart I feel
and going through the motions seems such a trite
excuse for losing myself in a different hemisphere
that I only read about in books and look at pictures.
I walked out for a walk in January
and now I find its June,
I'm dressed so inappropriately
bright fabrics I wrap around
just so one day you can unwind,
tell me, it was in my imagination
and bound me to a reality
which won't include you.
I'm a somnambulist, drifting through her days,
a myopic who wonders why the view is blurred,
and that we can live like this, lost in limbo
like scarecrows, arms akimbo, a roosting perch
for birds who pick at bedraggled strands.
I've been walking round in circles that
spacemen left, flattening the crops.
I've been anywhere but here.
Poetry by Elle
Read 556 times
Written on 2009-06-01 at 12:21
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