I heard what you said.
the soft breeze slips through your lips, but I see thunder and gray clouds in your eyes.
I can see you.
your soul slips through the thin membrane wrapping you, exposing what you say is "you".
yes. I can hear and see you. standing there. a hypocrite pretending to look low.
but there you are.
you always stand tall, as if you could hold the world above your head by with your fingertips. getting whatever you want, however you like.
huh? what is it you said?
no. you can't have me.
*Painting: Silent memory by Paul Pulszartti