Maria

Her eyes drift talking to a mellow nothing;
Logging her discomfort into the wall, and
Staring at the blank surface in front.
(Throwing away nails that rooted her)

A stunt, it was to elude oneself,
To mask her other self; the Woman
(So compassionate and emphatic),
In return has morphed, what she once perceived, right into stone.

Her dry bones long for tears of joy , Though
Like mouths of newborns while teething, she
Has to tolerate the severity of life being.

Pleasing the hopelessness she knows; digging the holes, yet
The woman still goes; still she knows, and
(Have you ever seen a celestial sun turn black)?
It is in that , I must witness this death of a sweet rose.

Follow, I do, channeling my faces emotes,
O so hollow shallow, I do not relish my comfort in this way; hatred, I say, hatred it stares,
(gazing its sight out of focus, concentrating her mind to its open),
I notice that, that wall she gazes into is me doing nothing, and
Her pain…Her pain, is her desire for me to do something…