She is bewildered so she goes back all the time
into a familiar place more homely than home - his arms.
She likes things which are mundane
and likes being around with used books, dolls, and even scars.
Strange, though, since she is a stranger in her own skin.
She searches for a recognized sigh.
Then when relieved, she relives.
Not exactly the same but not entirely different,
she basks in her blissful, unfamiliar glory.
Her morrows are not full of sorrow.
Her collar bones, defined.
Her eyes' brows, aligned. She lays still.
Not exactly contented but not entirely displeased...
she stops and then sighs.
She is besotted so she goes anywhere but not home.
Still, she goes back into his arms.
