hush.

her smile: a lock sealed.

heavy, with the weight of hidden

pain; of

cruel, yet beautiful thoughts.

reaching out to the crowd that

lies beyond her bubble. a

barrier, that encases her

(that protects her from, who?)

bound by chains cast,

not by anyone but

her.

limitations,

ones that fortify itself for

a price of her tears.

but why does she,

with the silky, dark hair, the

full, inviting lips.

the eyes that speak for her, that

say: dance, like tomorrow is

yesterday’s affair.

with hands, a delicate cold,

that call to your warmth,

feel so far; seem

as if her shell of

a skin,

and only that,

moves to the rhythm of an

ethereal song.

the picture of her,

a silhouette against the

rose-pink sky,

with clouds that would vanish by

a soft breathe; beautiful.

she’s on a hill,

staring at something only

she can see.

ironically, it’s only from so far away her

anguish is so clear, in

a photograph, taken

in secrecy.

:ultimately:

the sunshower seems to almost embrace her,

as she finally shatters it:

her bubble.

rain runs down the sides of

her fair face; tears,

as her eyes, dancing no longer,

gaze outside.

you’re standing there,

telling her she’s not alone.

so she shows you her smile,

a genuine smile:

hollow.