Blessed are the forgetful, for they get the better even of their blunders"

[gurlwonder26]

the lights of the city below her began to sparkle in the dim twilight of nothing. in a room on a couch a girl absent-mindedly searches her soul. her face shows youth but her eyes hold a stare of aged regret. she looked to her work for fulfillment, and stupidly to him, but of course found only emptiness. her old life haunted her. she began to wonder if it "gets any easier". she began to wonder if she could find the will to get up tommorrow. for surely somewhere in this lost soul must exist a glimmer of that innocent girl she believes she was once.

the frigid air of the old city wraps
itself in holes my story unraveles
with the quiver of a lip not mine
of course but a mirror reflected
not a whole truth but neither a lie
a line on a canvas stained and tattered
by the night coming fast in a never ending
winter of my discontent born into a sigh
close to being uttered- feathered with
a tinge of jealousy and shock and a stolen kiss on monday.