Here, But Not Really Here

Tick, Tick, Tick.

Right now, in the early embers of sunlight, she feel afloat.
As finger press on screens, clicking on makeshift keyboards,
she is alive and happy.

In this moment, in this frame of time,
she is completely, exuberantly, fully,
here.

Because He's there.
and the world is now warm, and the air is more crisp,
the view is so much more greener, cleaner, and oh-so-more-beautiful.

Jokes course from neural-digital-neural pathways,
grins and laughs echoing in the chamber of hearts and minds,
a sense of unity and relief, a real show to how they really are:

Together.

but then the clock ticks, ticks, ticks away.
and the presses begin to dwindle, and the keyboards click-less, l-ess, l e s s,
and the moment is gone, the time frame nearing to an end.

time's up, the window's closing in,
and that there'll only be sparse light coming through
the frosted pane

and the air, the world, the view, reverts
to what it has lately been.
glimpses of beauty

and he's there, but not really there,
so she's here, but not really here.

Scribbles

"What happened to you? you're seriously messed up"

Green eyes met brown, as raised eyebrows met with pure innocence. Blonde and brunnete stared at each other, waiting and shocked respectively.

"Jeez, I don't know Carmen, I got steam rolled by a bus what did you expect, a perfectly slim body?"

The brunnete snaps to her acquaintance, now touchy, ever so sensitive. Sarcasm dripping out of each letter, tone as sharp as a knife.

" Not what I mean. You weren't messed up, before. You weren't as abrupt as you are now. Look at you, you look like you're ready to jump off brooklyn bridge!"

The blonde avoides the tantalizing bait for the argument, and instead met with the girl's jaded eyes along with her own cocoa.

" You never knew me, so buzz off, and stop pretending."

The Girl On The Bench.

You see a girl.
she's smiling.
You smile at her.
such a wonderful view.

she smiles.

You smile.

she sits on the park bench
under the mysterious sky
smiling fixedly at the world.

You sit next to her,
and You feel content.
she listens and nods to your words.
You feel glad, someone's there.

This girl on the bench.

She doesn't say much,
except to comfort you.
but then,
it rains.

You run for cover,
under a big tree.
You turn back;

expecting her.

but she's

not there.

she's still on the bench.

You stare,

shrug

and sit.

she's still on the bench.

You can feel the rain pellets,

soar through the leaves

hitting your back, your arms,

anything in there reach.

she's still on the bench.

framed rigidly,

smiling.

The rain thunders on.

You're getting drenched.

You need to get real shelter.

before You get sick.

You don't even spare a glance to the girl

the girl who was still on the bench,

smiling fixedly to the world.

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A/N: Found this lying in my draft folder, it was dated a few years back, but thought it was a shame to not post.