Alone

Each time he had a different face
A different excuse
Yet here, once again, she collects the scars.
Countless times she has rummaged in the red
And cream pools
But never did she find it.

In alleways, in dark hotels, in car-seats
She scavenged with dirty nails
But each time she was blinded by darkness.

The first time left a gaping hole.
Tears were her respite.
Curses her daily nourishment.
Every person an enemy.
An emptiness which took with it breath and life in itself.

It never did come.

Five years passed.

From the carcasses she supped.
Determined to endure without it
Her tear ducts a drought.
Birds and knells silenced.

Her pen had run dry long ago
Yet
One day like any other day
Barely visible tongues
Lit up
Her gaunt body.

Now she is thankful
for each different face her pilgrimage,
her shrine.
Each departure inevitable, a different excuse.
Her body still a shadow.
Every breathing foreign word her curse.
People her enemy.

But her pen flows.