Canopy Of Leaves

Still Thinking


You searched for light in those eyes.
Searched for the slightest sparkle,
But her eyes are a tired universe.
They'll close once you blink, so don't look away.

She is indeed holding on to the stars
But the stars are far away
And if you ask her about how long she will stay,
She'll tell you that it is not a matter of time.

“Time is a human construct.”
She'll say.
“Time is not what I want to judge upon.”
As her lips start to tremble.

Maybe you could've asked why.
Maybe you could've taken her tiny hands into yours
To hold on to it, like she holds on to the stars.

But she seemed too far for you to reach,
So you teach yourself that you cannot help her anyway.

And yet you search for light in those eyes.
Search for the slightest sparkle,
But her eyes are a tired universe.
They'll close once you blink, so don't look away.

In dark nights, at four am when you're dreaming of her voice,
Can you imagine, that she lies in her bed awake,
Inside screaming for yours?

And that her pale hands shake
As she takes the covers, drags them over her face
To suffocate the sounds of dying comets
Hitting her immortal thoughts.

Maybe you can't imagine.
Maybe you can't stop dreaming,
Because you're too scared of what's real.

And she lies too far away for you to know,
So at the and of the day, you turn away and go home.

But still you search for the light in those eyes.
Search for the slightest sparkle,
But her eyes are a tired universe.
They'll close once you blink, so don't look away.

And everyday you go home,
She turns to a place unknown,
She is so lost in her mind,
That no map could ever bring her home.

“Home is not human construct.”
She would say.
“Home is where you find peace.
And regardless of all the pieces I pick up 
And stitch together everyday,
I can't find home!”
And her voice cracks as she begins to cry.

Maybe you could've asked why.
Maybe you could've searched for a better yarn,
For her to fix those broken and breaking parts.

But she's spread too far away for you to find,
All those missing pieces.

And confined,
How are you supposed to sew her,
When you're seams are ripped, too?

And yes, you search for the light in those eyes.
You search for the slightest sparkle,
But you are a tired universe,
And you'll close once she blinks.
So you ask her, if you'd never look away -
Would she do the same?

by Ali Alien

Joscé