eternally ephemeral [ poetry & prose ]

Mysteries

She loved mystries
her soul often craved to
uncover every little
fibre of secrecy
thinking she was
picking up
stars after stars
from the dark
blanket of the night

But the people in her life
they never were the stars
of her sky
they never showed
her the way
when the roughs
of her wild life sea
would unexplainably
clash upon her
almost drowning her in

She's become a mystery
to them now
they never understand
what goes on in her scarred mind

She's become a mystery
to her own self 
it seems because
sometimes she wonders
if any of her smiles
are real at all.