She was translucent;
Incorporeal by choice.
 
In that no one had ever seen
All that she was.
Just a superficial surface
Over a truth she buried
Under jokes and words
Written for acceptance.
 
Beneath there is a woman
Yearning for something
Only she knows.
 
Clinging to faith
Of a god and of
A childhood promise
That somewhere,
What she desired was just
Waiting to be found.
 
Praying that even if youth escapes her,
That he will not…

 
She can be seen,
She can be felt,
But from her perspective
She is not being touched.
 
Not where it matters.
 
Not how it matters.
 
 
It is an ultimate injustice
That such a beautiful woman
Could go so long alone.
That a woman who would
Be the best thing that ever happened to a man
Was never truly loved.
 
 
Determined, she still searches
Under starry nights and blackened skies.
 
Translusence may be a safe state
In which she may search our world in
semi-presense,
 
But more is deserved
For the ethereal among us.
 







Ethereal- extremely delicate and light in a way that seems too perfect for this world.