On the fence she sits, pensively
considering whether the passion is too intense or justified. She lied and said she wasn't thinking of him, that his name never fell off her lips while talking to them. But it did,
Time and time again.
Tension builds into mountains in her mind,
ones that will take more than rhyme to
climb. A more spiritual and frightening
experience than she thinks she's ever had
And it makes her sad because that is also a lie.
She does this every time.
Countless scribbles and lines
Of all the men before,
Behind those doors in her consciousness.
A deep breath and scraps of what's left,
Bury them.
Hide the truth until it breaks loose
And destroys the stoic expression upon her face, one that she's been sculpting for weeks.
Tears leak and spill down her cheeks and it's a cosmic letter written in glittery shimmers of liquid heart ache.