snapshots

ix. she (part two) /November 16, 2013/

those frosted red lips

tend to murmur

forgotten lyrics

to beautiful songs.

but no one but me

hears them

her mother,

begs her to go to school

her father,

just shakes his head.

his own daughter

as committed to beautifying

life as he was.

but she stands

in the doorway

tears running down her face

wondering why such a

kind,

smiling,

caring,

and endearing soul,

must wither away with time

like it does.

she walks alone

on the cobblestone streets

handsome strangers

casting longing looks

she cannot bring herself to return.

her friends claim

'you need

a man.'

yet,

she does not

reply.

because,

at home,

in that old wooden bed,

she has

her man.

someone who completes her,

loves her,

cherishes those

forgotten lyrics,

like no one else can.

and i wonder,

does anyone ever stop

to think,

that the only love

she needs,

is from herself?