Broken

This is a poem/story that I wrote recently about a young woman who looses herself. Although we loose things, they can always be found. Hope you enjoy!

She is broken.

She lays in her thoughts, unable to move.

Surrounded by the voices, drowning; sinking lower and lower into her abyss.

Sitting, from the bottom of her thoughts she can see the shimmer of light peeking through the murky waters.

She stares at her reflection, watching the cracked and broken view move with the water.

How had she let herself sink? How had she fallen so far off the edge?

She ponders upon the idea of happiness.

What does it mean?

Days pass and nights blur.

She has forgotten.

She has forgotten that feeling of joy and happiness.

She is lost.

A lost soul floating through open water.

Her bones like jelly.

Wherever the waves take her, that is where she shall go.

She has no written path, nor story.

She feels nothing, but the waves touching her skin.

Floating in an endless sea of thoughts.

She can not differentiate her dreams from reality.

Each day blurs into the next.

She is lost.

But like all lost things, she can be found.

 

After floating for what felt like years, she stopped.

Her eyes opened, above her stood a being who could not be identified.

The face was blurred, and the figure was slim. It had no color, no gender, it was only grey.

It stood above her, mimicking her movement, enticed by her gestures.

The young girl rose to her feet. It had been years since she had felt land.

The being began to circle her, scanning her, reading her.

Standing motionless, perplexed by the being, she began to dance.

The being, shocked, copied her every move.

The two danced in the sand, as the sun stood high in the sky.

The girl laughed at the thought of an unknown creature standing in front of her.

She questioned her mental health.

She questioned her sanity, laughing even more.

It had been so long since she felt an emotion other than nothing.

The being stopped, confused by this unfamiliar sound.

It stood still, slowly leaning in toward her.

Stepping lightly through the sand, it studied her once more.

Sticking out its hand, she backed away, fearful of its touch, but something told her to not fear the unknown.

Hesitantly, she rose her arm to it.

As their hands got closer, she felt a heat radiating from it.

The grey being slowly exposed color as their fingers locked.

Author's Note

ignore the mixture of past and present tense.