She

 

She only stares

Thinking

Those awful

Terrible

Beautiful thoughts

To herself

Never aloud

For what then?

What could

She accomplish

With words?

Touch

Taste

Hear

Is what she

Does

Is how

She

Communicates.

She strolls

Gently

Ladylike

Elegantly

Through life

With looks

Not necessarily

Beauty

But looks

Through her

Eyes

(There’s that

Window

Again)

She misses

Cries

Begs

Forces

And wills

Herself

To comply

With her

Mind

Rather than

Her heart

(Which is strange

For those other

Senses

Are the ones

She uses

To portray

Her heart).

So she’s

Messed

But she

Is the one

Thing

That most

Die for

Crave for

Plead for

Kill for.

One word

One clichéd word.

Can

You

Feel

Her?