Are you sure she's there? Yes, but sometimes I'm not quite sure.

by S.a.Sunlight

I flipped through the pages
looking for signs of her
But all I found was age and death
Smells of must and book breath

And they breathe with such intensity
As we always wake up books from their sleep
Morning breath
Day breath
Night breath
All books breathe the same

So I left the books
And hit the streets for a new start
I was always told
That they were the better kind of smart

I rode the streets
On busses and taxis
I saw them from my
Redlines and Greens

And they’re always exhaling
But they never mutter the answer
The pavement will sigh at your loss
But give you no sympathy

Where are you? Where are you going?
Where are you taking me? Where can I find you?

And maybe I made you up.

Sometimes I’m not quite sure.