Hope as an object
There it was, beyond the penthouse, after the roof,
getting past the clouds, glued to the ocean up above.
It was not anywhere but there,
Sometimes, it hides. Sometimes, it shows itself.
Like this particular person on your head,
More of a regular visitor, it comes to heal you, then it goes back to hurt you.
Tears after tears, it appears. Then it will make you smile.
But it keeps you awake like a threatening nightmare at dawn,
Mingling with your other thoughts for quite a while.
Embracing you at bad times but you still don’t trust it,
You just can’t fully trust it, not now, not today.
For a friend. She was heartbroken. And it hurts me.