When She Played with Danger

October 16, 2010
By , Ann Arbor, MI
People look at her face and see nothing.
Nothing in her eyes, no room for emptiness
nothing in her face, no room for a smile.
Not a smile, not a frown. She must have forgotten how.
They look at her face
Beautiful, yet blank and empty as a poemless page.
Yet they just don’t know
what lies in her heart
A soul scarred with permanent imprints of a day
she will try so hard to forget, push out, erase
they just don’t know.

She’s been through it all.
It started when she played with Danger.
Liked him a lot, Danger.
Sweet as lemon cake, before it spoils.
And soon the sweetness of the cake became sour, stale,
It hardened and became lemons, mud, and quicksand
Before she could as much as blink,
Their innocent games turning hastily into something
that weren’t so innocent,
something terribly wrong, something indeed intended,
Danger cut into her soul with the blade of a cowardly knife.
She bled,
They just don’t know
She’s been through it all.
At night her arm
bleeds rich scarlet rivers as she sits numbly,
blade in hand,
weeping teardrops the color of melancholy
each one
Landing into the invisibility of darkness.

No one knows
She’s been through it all.
Been torn up
like an old love poem full of lies that she tries to forget
Kinda like her heart,
because now that too,
rests in pieces on the ground.

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