the rushes

the tiny white flowers set the contrast in her wavy locks of blonde, the white beauties entangle themselves softly, kind of like those sweet images of warm coffee on cold mornings, the little tidbits of the day get lost in the files of the major events.

her face is better left to the rays of the sun, tan from the hours spent outside...with the light hitting her just so perfectly her weary eyes start to gleam.

her heart is so soft and full of love, and tends to hurt whenever anyone around her is hurting, for this is a beautiful thing for her, because she used to sit cold and numb to the thoughts and the feeling of others.

the emptiness is deeply dwelling in her depths as she is waiting for it to disappear,

but the longer the days the more it stays.

she is just sitting, no longer in the sun,

watching the subway pass her by and the world rush on.