In the soft whisper of my heart's cry,
A skinny face catches my eyes.
Enthusiasm in her every move,
With her each step, she reveals her old love grove.
Her fake laughter echoes and her eyes pretend to be bright,
Yet her soft heart bears the hovering pain and she keeps it out of sight.
In her heart, the deep agony is sealed,
For the fear that she would be mocked.

She pours her heart to me,
And the pain caused by the deep scars which I clearly see.
I feel her helplessness in her posed murmurs,
Her broken expectations, her restricted flights.
Wears the mask of joy to keep the thorns away,
But they tear her poor heart and betray.
She has faith in love rather than in vengeance,
Her heart just longs the moments of solitude, no need of atonement.

© Taskeen Aabo