Mystery girl

Lost in the fog of every airport--
You smile mystified; when I come closer one step,
but never enough close.
You heave a sigh, careless like ever before;
and smile again before you close your eyes,
and feel the wind brushing against your skin.
If only the wind were--
but,
never mind my lips;
would always echo your name.

You are a poetry that bleeds, in a world;
Of paper thin and paper frail.
You are something pure and something real
and something rare;
that is what counts,
and you were you; before you ever came to be a
mystery
girl--
And I believe you still are you,
after what now
you have become.