'Nighttime', by Sophie Millar
Where did all these questions come from?
Can’t you leave them with someone else?
And not face them until you’ve forgotten?
You do not trust yourself to think
The answers you don’t want to face
The volume of music isn’t sinking them
Nor the drum beats scaring them
Running isn’t tiring them
Nor crying melting them
Only thinking is pulling them deeper
It’s worse to watch you now I give you my hand
But you’re too far away
I do not see you now I await your return
Hurry back now
Because I do not trust myself to think
Her Dream, by Olivia Plunket
Sitting still, no sound, no words, just sorrow.
Just tears, dripping, trickling, spilling then flowing.
I offer myself,
But she pushes me away,
I dream about the day when she will accept me,
When her heart will call for me.
But that is exactly what it is,
Just a dream.