My lines have gone to a wild land that I do not know. No one does. They have been gone for months, for a lifetime.
Those words that hug each other forming multicolor lines that have hidden under the velvet flower vase, inside the brown treasure box, and beside the imperfectly peeled oranges.
The lines have crossed my face instead of my fingers, in a period of time where growing up was not an option. Though, stubborn child I still am, with a wronged soft heart and a sharp mouth. A child that could never adapt quite well, no matter where. A child who does not understand life and all it takes. A child that feels too much for her own sake.
They -my lines- have gone to find what they know I am still looking for. It fails to come to me to finally figure out if it exists at all. Oh, lines! You are in my mind, across my heart, sailing away. Away, somewhere, away, disguised as prayers made of light and inaudible songs. You have kept away while I selfishly calm down my heart, treat it well, keep the doubts at bay.
Cursed be the wait and the bad earthly faith that touches the great souls that only good deserve.