It is the end of day, The creep of darkness, the murmur of the city that never
sleeps only slumbers, with the occasional jolt of a horn or a moan of a siren.
I linger on the edge of consciousness still the voyeur, still following bread
crumbs through a forest that leads me nowhere, her life like an old fairy tale
in which no Prince emerges, and still she follows along, looking over her
shoulder for the Big bad Wolf, still hoping to get to Grandma's house, hoping
it isn't another wolf in disguise, all of them strewn along the trail behind her with teeth she once
admired but now she's come to realize they all want the same thing, want more
than she can afford to give
Still, I see her
Shadow at the edge of the dream, lost in the woods hurting. needing to be
rescued
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