She is it. Pure poetry in motion. The most beautiful song never written. All that never was. I see her sometimes as I float delicately between sleep and consciousness, her eyes swallowing me like Jonah. She stands there beckoning, never quite as visible as I'd like. I want to run towards her but nothing is working outside of my head. I'm stuck. I cry out, warning her of all the things that make me undeserving. I tell her of shameless exploits, demented thoughts, backwards philosophy, and every bad habit that I possess and couldn't shake even if I wanted to. Still she remains. Silent, yet saying everything with her eyes, she lets me know that none of it matters. She is everything and nothing, simple and infinitely complex. The type of woman that men would go to war for. The one who makes the universe feel as big as a marble because anywhere that she isn't doesn't matter and therefore, doesn't exist. Light creeps in and overwhelms her until she's gone just as quick as she appeared. I don't know who she is, where she came from, or where she is going... I just see her sometimes as I float delicately between sleep and consciousness.
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