Her skin may be fair
but have you asked how many times
she gets touched by wandering eyes
during her daily commute?

Her left hand may be soft
but have you ever felt the right one
from working, writing, calloused, rough
like sandpaper against the cheek?

Her smile may be breathtaking
but have you an idea how long
her breath is held every moment
someone’s voice is raised?

Her eyes may hold mysteries
but have you an idea why
tear-stained pillows lay on her bed
often during quiet nights?

For although she may
be lying and hurting and
sighing and crying

She still is trying and
pushing and fighting
and thriving.