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.

Stars were set in her forever eyes,
No heart more pure, kind or otherwise.
Captivating with her lullabies,
And where hope is faint, her beauty rise.
For though in this world many comprise,
forever she be, the sun to my skies.

Silence strikes
at the edge of her
cheek

trapped in a
box so vast and
so wide

disoriented and
discontented

jumps into obscure
little freedom

Maybe I loved a little too hard.

A little too much.

A little too annoying.

A little too passive aggressively.

A little too bad.

A little too good.

A little too sudden.

A little too selflessly.

A little too ******.

A little too much depth.

A little too much passion.

A little too much.

Maybe I loved a little too much.