Feb. 22 Part 2

Moaning, crying out from the dark, she calls.

Betrayel is on her lips.

Lies are in her heart.

Movement emanates from the stillness of her limbs.

Sorrow is seen from her eyes.

"Who will love me?" asks her hands.

Sound cannot be heard.

Words cannot be spoken.

Light cannot be seen.

"Who will love me?" She calls out from silent lips.

A heart breaks.

A glass falls and shatters.

The world has ended.

The veil of darkness falls.

The edge of the world is near.

She sails off into the horizon.

A universe before her, black as night.

The question still dancing on the surface of her gaze, "who will love me?"