Upon waking, she can’t awaken
Upon sleeping, sleep won’t come
She screams her dreams to the chipping, heartless ceiling.
Unheard.
The pain for which there is no cure is the most binding
The most suffocating of all
No one can see it, if one does, she is weak
Unstable
Immature and
Psychotic.
So she hides.
Her pieces, not yet dried together by the bind of the knowing and caring,
Are many
But just a whole to the naked passing eye.
Two weeks in, a moment of painful clarity.
Hair blowing
Anger flowing
Far from all-knowing
His heart unbreakable
Simply unshakeable
Her hurt unmistakable
Confidence faltering
Perspective altering
She’ll never love again.
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