Searching.

Late mornings.

long nights i can't remember. 

it's my soul thats tired she says in the dark.

the coffee in her cup is the only thing keeping her alive.

inside she feels she's breaking; coming undone.

restless...impatiently waiting on something that never seems to come.

looking down alleyways for the truth in all the lies, 

only to find leftovers from the night before.

scraps people toss, carrying on with their busy lives.

wandering; searching.

Her coffee has now grown cold.