Is it really me
who sits here conversing
with these shadowy figures?
Is that really my laughter
ringing out in gaiety above them,
attempting to block out my thoughts?
Is it really my arms holding
this stranger, while we dance
to music I cannot hear?
Is it really my heart breaking
and crying inside of me
when I am surrounded, and alone?
Converted to HTML by Renette Davis with permission from the author, Jean Miller.
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Last updated: Dec. 7, 2010