Sometimes I feel like I don't exist, life rushes around me. People exchange brief glances, gestures, and general acknowledgment while I seem to stand in the eye of the storm, unconnected and unaffected.
The wind blows hardest downhill as I walk up hill, but it passes right through me. My hands and feet feel numb, I glance to the ground to steady myself and I notice I'm not casting a shadow.
The skies are usually dark in grim times, storm clouds lingering overhead and they say "when it rains it pours". So I chant that old lyric 'let it rain down on me...'
It's funny or at least a little odd the way clouds can filter the colors of leaves and even flowers. Dark romantic hues color the world around me and a nearby cast iron fence frames a garden like an oil painting, but I stand grey.
They don't see me because I am not there, I was never born...but merely, imagined. I am who 'she' would be had she not been disrupted, this makes me somehow important as measure for comparison. As an answer to an unasked question I float in the mist unrealized but not unwanted, never embraced but always cared for.
So a message to you from the world of what could or might have been...
"Hello, will you be staying long?"