There she is, a complete mess,
Her head a tangle of thick tousled
tresses and thoughts.
She smiles through the pain,
Hiding herself from her heart,
Her lips smile but I can see through her eyes
That she is dying inside.
I think and think again what might be going
In that big fuzzy head of hers,
As I sit beside her, I look at her
The way a child looks at a puzzle,
I try to put it together but in vain
I still dont have all the pieces
God knows what goes on in that messed up brain.
Her laugh though, is as innocent as a kid playing under the summer sun.
She grins widely at me as I stand there perplexed
Comprehending the hidden meaning, the crypt, those deep wrinkles on the her cheek mean
She shakes her head, in sympathy, as if I were a cripple.
Blind to the elephant in the room.
I follow her, her mind, her heart,
Trying to trace all threads to a thought
Alas! They are intertwined and everything falls apart,
I finally find the idea which i had furiously fought.
She was not a puzzle to be solved,
Not a problem to be fixed
She was like salt waiting to be dissolved,
I watch her bewitched.
Who is she, you ask?
She is you and me,
The girl on the other side of the mirror,
The woman on the edge of the cliff.
Quillosophy 