Faceless and hollow.
Her face fading,
Lips chapping,
Body shading.
That happens to a tuned out porcelain.
Staring out the same old window,
Looking at strangers' faces pass.
One look is all she gets.
Not a turn, not a wink,
not a tinge of a smile
even when she's at her best.
Longing so bad for an acknowledge or two,
Wanting more; a greeting from another.
She's living but barely breathing.
A voice broke,
Full figured with a firm smile, was
All she saw through the reflection off the window pane,
He was,
Limbless to the core,
Lying gently on the floor,
Watching for on coming feet,
Hoping the next would not stomp over him.
His limbs were hers,
Replacing her broken,
He prays for the day she would come to realise she's not alone.
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