its almost time christine.

its almost time christine

wasn't much on her name to mean
anything.
not to somebody or anybody.
this kind of brooding, makes it all the more
none the less to feel like an ant
in this cruel world.
in this sleepless world.

...and she is so beautiful

waiting.. in the airport.
leaving to a place, far away to a better rot.
fingers itch the AC left too damp, too cold.
but away from the humid heat.
blowing her nose to a kleenex.
her composure is anything but raw.
no tears left,
just silent cries what else to be done.

trying not to think of going back to work
for money, a better life.
disappearing inside her
she looks outside the glass window,
like how she could look outside the bus
staring
at the sides of the highway.

her heart breaks
for it is left to another,
trying to forget the other
and another..
and another..
her wish was still filled caring for him

its not her fault.

always

she hurts to feel,
she lost that part of her somewhere.
.. a long time ago.
perhaps most people are better off strangers
like her.

just this one time, not running away
in a slight return and never to come back.
she holds her knives invisibly,
feeling once again
there in those depths of hers
she likes the hiding..

always


for no one can ever know
and no one will ever find


that carcass in the reservoir.