She cracks deep, deep inside

Wondering who she once was,

Is there a fragment of me still there… here?

She longs.

A lost identity

My identity.


I am no longer the person I used to be.

The old me left.  A stranger, you see.


Listen for the whisper of a once familiar song,


await the dance of a beggars come up,

I wait.

I just wait.
She waits.

As we wait the question remains
Will she return?

Who will return? This figure of my imagination? The ghost that is the former me? The one who just longs to be?