The laughing girl is gone.
We barely knew her.
We had no time to commit to memory
the way her lips would curve
around some piece of joy,
the way she looked at the world
through the hair over her eyes,
those errant strands framing
the small pleasures of existing.
In her place there is a woman
bound to the coil that has broken her,
and not even she can recall
the way her exuberance once filled a room.
In the place where her laughs once echoed,
the silence steadfastly mocks us all.

01/06/2013

Posted on 01/06/2013
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