Your form takes on what I think I see,
What I need you to be.
I might take nobility and apply it,
Perhaps, to where there is none.
In your cold fake smile,
I might cast on you the glowing of the sun.
When you speak I don't acknowledge the emptiness,
The sound is covered up in smiles,
In your dead-end eyes that stare to space,
I see a depth that runs for miles.
In you, I create a legend,
That is built from my hallowed ground,
In a slanted slide-show in which you star,
I chases echoes of foot steps without a sound.
Lisa
