Lights fade and bulge and fluxuate behind the twitching lids.
Dreams morph and twist and envelop his mind,
You can see she's back again.
She's short and slight with painted eyes,
Her skin is quite translucent.
But she only exists in this brief subconcious,
And he'll forget her once he wakes.
Lost in time and space, remembered only in this hour.
He'll kiss her and cry and promise to be faithful.
But she can already feel him slipping, and the lust will return.
She'll diminish back into herself.
And tomorrow, when he looks out the window of the bus, he'll see a girl standing in the middle of the road, alone.
Their eyes will lock, and she'll smile.
There'll be the shortest flash of memory in his mind. But he won't look twice.
He's already forgotten.
Because she's the one he looks at, and the one he never sees.





