The Urban Elf

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I reach back
unguided fingers rake
the darkness of my mind
to find that memory or hope
to drag out and cling to
like an oft mended teddy bear
clutched to the chest
the tear stained recipient
of whispers of loneliness
discordantly broken by sobs
until sleep in its mercy brings quiet.
I reach and I feel
dismissing those things
whose first touch is comforting
but have already proven to be false
grasping at nothing
coming up empty
and emptier for the trying.
What will it take?
When will it change?
Questions so old they’ve grown cruel.
Into the dark
ever and ever reaching
blind eyes make phantoms for need to see
dissolving and reforming
ghost dreams or visions
shimmering with potential
yet never manifesting a hand.