Questions She Cannot Outrun
Was love supposed to leave with him,
the day her father walked away?
Did he take her worth in his suitcase,
fold it between shirts and silence,
forgetting a daughter who would one day
search every man's eyes for his shadow?
How do you love a mirror
when every reflection feels unfinished
half a painting, half a poem,
never whole enough to frame?
How do you smile
when happiness tastes like borrowed air,
sweet for a moment, gone in a breath?
Why do men touch her skin
but never her soul?
Why do their hands
learn the map of her body
but never the language of her heart?
Why is her softness
always mistaken for surrender?
She laughs in daylight,
but her nights are heavy
pillows salted with questions,
dreams bruised with answers
she does not want to hear.
What is the point of holding on
when the rope keeps burning her palms?
What is the point of hope
when it feels like begging the sky
for rain that never comes?
Tell me,
why was she made to love
like an open wound,
bleeding for affection,
starving for the one thing
that always leaves her hungry?
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YOU ARE READING
A FRAGILE SONG
PoetryThis is plain poetry I'll add more chapters as I write I hope somehow I connect with you, even if you relate to just a page or a paragraph
