Dandelions - Bertha Wegmann

Swept into the darkness, absence hollow in my veins. Let me look anywhere but here; show me patternity of wall and floor, the grain in wood. I'll follow it all ~ until lost. I'm terrified, unduly of course. My lack of value screams out, draws attention to the space I waste, ridden with guilt over time spent on me. Yet I'm soft to the touch, full of unscattered wishes, bleeding so easily when torn. It hurts to run through the cycle; don't stain your fingers meeting my existence this time around. All I don't need falls away eventually, 'til I weigh little more than nothing. Allow myself to be carried a while, until I begin again in hope unburdened. Maybe that's why I cry and look away - because I only ever almost forget.