She wakes me in the night.
Her face burned in my eye,
Like a cataract.
My arms go slack.
Who am I? And I am what?
She wakes me when I day dream.
She's a goddess.
A whirlwind.
A maven.
I'm not in love with her. No.
I'm not a part of her. No.
I want to be her. See her.
Know her. Be of her.
But someone said,
'God is dead.'
So, maybe she doesn't
exist at all.
Tina Sena
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/idol-5/
