her age bruising…

It was the dark space
that spoke to her
a tiny bit further away
from the noise 
a quiet aura caught her eye
pinged in the pit of her stomach
her head ached to stop
the bashing of her self
pleading for respite care
of ailments rising in her chest
her eyes were bruised it seemed
from rejection that time brings
undesired her constant companion
keeping her awake at night
weariness her choker 
she doesn’t want to speak of her thoughts nor think of her thoughts
she wants her heart to be the victor
but here it comes her shadowed moon
light just might be an illusion
the seas and oceans she contains 
are again, welling up inside 
the mind chattering of all the ways
she’ll be left drowning….

her heart remains heavy
ego the harbinger of  death
of potentially beautiful things

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