Home: Poetry: Ivy McKnight: Fantasies
She was not looking at me anymore,
staring out into space like that,
and I knew wherever she was,
I would never know her there.
She was quite small in the shadow,
of what she used to be,
and maybe I understood a bit,
why she wished to leave me here,
because I wasn’t something,
make-believe.
And the wind was washing away,
what used to make her talk to me,
she’s talking to herself now,
her lips are parted so that when I,
maybe I will look inside her,
and maybe I will see what is wrong.
Her mouth is open wider now,
and maybe she wants me to see,
so when I peer inside,
when I see what she wanted me to,
when I see the blackness of night,
and death,
I seem to think I understand,
and now I know where I am again.

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