Like a delicate web woven round my soul,
an ethereal mist blankets me with a
gauzy veil of intrigue.
My mind becomes covered by a translucent shroud
of mysteriously incomplete memories.
A dark tapestry of old lovers hangs limply
from the broken window of my heart.
Cloaking my thoughts in an eternal mystery,
leaving me to wonder continually about
who I once was and have miraculously become.
Donavon Scott Vinson