She can feel longing
Wanting rushing through herself
To hold what is love
What can be only love and nothing else

Those too large eyes
Gazing mercilessly almost blindly
Tiny fingers curling like dead leaves
But it's so alive
How could she ever say such a thing

Something entirely alien in the way it sings
Softly screaming like it's drowning
Yearning for something as much as she does
Mouth opening as its eyes are locked shut
Mystified entrancement lifting her limbs
Musical cometomes dancing in her ears

But this wanting is nothing more than wanting
To use the touch of love and making
Into making what is love

Loneliness' hands digging into her soul
Tearing at her emptiness and making it something more
Skin breaking into people pieces of what was
What can never be again

Her fingers glide across the invisible curve
Flatness gripping her fingertips
Stomach perfectly stretched on bone
No circular motion under her breast

Her arms are curved into an imaginary cradle
Asylum lullabies rocking sanity away