Pushed.
Almost shoved,
into the world
outside.
Cold.
Freezing.
Yet warmed
by the eyes
of a stranger.
Hungry.
Starving.
For the touch
of another.
Eyes.
Open wide
to see the
burning of my
past.
Shook and
rattled by an
unfriendly hand.
Stumbling,
transgressing,
into the
fragments of
something whole.
Whispering,
good-bye’s
as if not to
disturb
familiar faces
too soon to be
forgotten.
Lovely!