Immaculate In Her Fog

"Hey there, little girl, come sit and talk for a while. I've got the time to kill and we haven't talked for a while" She told how she'd run away, how with circumstances she couldn't stay. "I'm just an ordinary girl," she'd say, "I'm really not one to lie." And in truth, if truth be told, not one word was a lie. But this deceit ran deeper in the girl with the black traced eyes.A smile for hiding cuts and scrapes and wounds that run much deeper. "I know the pain that runs through you." But she'll not let me weep for her. A song of sorrow, a melody, that chimed through out my mind. Her voice, the instrument so played, so mellow, soft and kind. However much she hides herself, the girl with the black traced eyes.A mystery unfolds from her, a swirling sea green haze. Perpetuated by two fish, both of uncountable age. The shoreline of her mind is smooth, no rugged rocks there lay. But stones are smoothed by thrashing caused by tempest raging waves. The two, they mingle, then bump in confusion, scared by a trouble, but it was only illusion. A rippled effect from sudden surprise, never portrayed in those black traced eyes.However much the cloud around her twirls and twists and swirls, I can see right through the fog and see the truth of the girl. She looked at me with no disguise, and said not but a word. All she did was stare at me, silently, knowingly, with her black traced eyes.