Her empty heart resembles her unfurnished living room
The bedroom is without light, such as her life
Bowls and plates lie scattered on the bathroom floor
Eye shadow and lipstick cover the kitchen counter
Her clothes cover the bed
Everything is everywhere
Nothing has a place
She stumbles over shoes
She can no longer find a mate too
Her inner turmoil runs through her veins
It has become her.
She doesn’t belong anywhere
She attempts to find peace, freedom
Anything to counteract the internal chaos
Searching for stability within
Sometimes withdrawing inside herself
She ignores those around her
She promised herself her woes would not defeat her.
So many alterations woven into her life
Sewing hate where there was once love
People ask, “How can she be so cold hearted,
Distant, without emotion?
Hands intertwined she responds…
“Show me whose heart is warm towards me,
Who brings themselves closer to me
And attempts to empathize with my emotions?
Instead I’m ignored and approached with caution.”
Baffled, they release her hands
Damaged goods can’t always be restored
Yet one remains, brave, and curious
He asks, “Show me where it hurts?”
She does…
Starting from the tip of her strands
To the end of her chin
She grazes his finger along her neck
To the center of her heart
She lingers there for a moment
Because that’s where it hurts the most
They continue their journey down her belly line
Pass her thighs to the end of her toes
He’s confused until she says, “All of me.”

Cicely