Enchantment

I don't know, but I've been thinking about things lately.
What has spun out of control in my life,
doing topsy turvy somersaults in the seamless sky,
landing back on my two feet on the asphalt,
bleeding knees scraped when I miss,
don't know whether to laugh or cry,
so I laugh and I cry at the same time.

The girl with the long hair,
that touches her slender back so delicately,
she's the one with the smiling eyes,
their ends turn up ever so gently,
the petite sillouhette that followed my younger gullible days,
and follow my restless grown self.
The one I called best friend,
is now never mine to keep,
never will she be mine to call my own,
best friend.
Distance glares like a shrill amber light,
it doesn't glow, but it bites.
And so I realize,
reality and distance are similes with ironies of the same kind,
both bite and both hurt just as much.

Huge house, three storeys high,
"I love your house!" they squeal in delight,
but what I see in my eyes,
is just a gaping big hole,
emptiness gushes in and out, in and out,
easily, effortlessly,
like air going into my lungs,
in and out, in and out,
but I don't feel the love.
Use your senses, they say.
I can't feel it, but maybe I can see it,
but I can't.
Sorry.
I might have gold coins,
but teachers never taught me that coins could buy conversations,
understanding, time, acceptance.
You've got a daughter but you put me at home.
Am I to blend nicely and unnoticeably with the paintings on the wall?

Look at me.
See me.
Or have you lost me?
I have changed and I drift away like ocean water,
sliding like fluid glass between your fingers.