Floating

Her world is a private
 dream
 a myriad complex thing
 juxtaposed within
 pains that run deep
 like a slice with
 a wicked knife
 into the fruit
 of a well worn life
 that drips it juices
 onto the floor
 where others tread
 its sticky mess.

Yet she floats.
 Always she floats,
 above and apart
 she floats.
 Wrapped in a delightful
 viscous vicious
 violent delicate
 sustaining way.

She floats.
 And I,  can simply only
 wonder when, she will
 ask me to join her.