She misses God.
Isn’t that strange
In this creation?
Too many interruption
In this rush of education.
She’s leaving I think.
I feel her
Creating this final note –
When conversations
Convoluted
Fail to be considerate.
This symphony
I shall write on her skin
Permeate through her bones
So that she can never
Be mistaken
For anyone else, again.
I like it when she whispers
Goodnight
After so many times
I’ve watched her say
Goodbye.
General