In a Few Years

.

Did you mention your hair was down to the ridge in your back, now, sprawled over the inkworks that mask your skin? Did you forget to cut it short again or did you lose yourself in the silence of your self-worth?

A degree you worked so hard to get; this money, did it buy your flowers and diamond rings? Did the little doves fly in, only to catch your diploma between the cracks of its nails, and tear it apart for the chicks it doth invest?

Did you finally learn how to spread your wings, as you always seemed to mention in the dribble of confidence you would proclaim, in a ramble of you?

I never wanted to see your eyes like this, tired and alone.
The swirl in your dance during nights, I'll never know if that was real.

God please.

As a woman of integrity, you mustn't let any one declaw the beast.

But Jesus Christ, the bags under her eyes were as low as the hair down her spine.

. . . . . . .