windbrushed clouds
painted
with memories
of steps never taken
blow
through her tangled hair.
old fear swallows
your dreams,
and you awaken slaked
of thirst-
alone
but free.
you want more,
but you run:
the sun
has
set, tis
a
time
for magic,
&
a time for lost souls
to fail and
despair.
theDeprevation 