A Soul for the Torn Apart

And time is the unseen hand pulling from behind
Crinkling the corners of her eyes,
The corners of her mouth more up, more down,
her dress tighter.

She laughs as though nervous
from the top half of her lungs.
She always has...

Over burgers and salad
we nod sagely together
as mystics over a think-boiling pot
quietly wondering 'What the Hell?'

But we smile because we can't help it.