Blush.
That’s what he'd call her
Because she’d walk next to him
without a problem in the world and she'd
Blush.
She’s always so happy.
She never spoke of struggle,
and when he'd ask about her day she would only
Blush.
She had the most gentle eyes.
Enough to assure him that
everything will be okay when and when she would
Blush
it told him that the days weren’t nightmares
and the nights without sleep wouldn’t be as long
and suddenly he had fallen in love with her
Blush.
…
…
...
His cheeks now resembled hers,
but he hadn’t heard from her for a few days
and he had began to miss her and her benevolent
Blush.
The visual of her face would run through his mind
and concentration was not an option without her
Blush.
The nightmares were back during during the day
and the nights were longer than ever without her
Blush.
He hadn’t slept for a week.
Insomnia had found it’s way back to him
and he’d counted every second not spent with her.
…
…
...
Pain
was the only thing she knew.
Her best friend was no friends at all.
She didn’t tell anyone about her
Pain
because she feared they would feel what she did.
She only cared for others because she was told
that she was a lost cause by herself and the other.
The other who could not see her
Pain
and herself who was convinced that it was true.
The other who was blind to the beauty behind the
Blush.
Or was it? The blush, was it true?
The sustained red that lied upon her cheeks.
He was told that all of her happiness
was too much to contain, so there it rested.
And she never wore makeup because she knew of her beauty
and had nothing to hide; no shame, nor
Pain.
…
…
...
The other.
The one who would tell her lies
and convince her that she was not going to be happy.
The other.
The one who was blind to this masterpiece
and only used her as an emotional punching bag.
The other
who did not stop at emotional,
The other
who made sure the “blush" would stay.
The other*
who was only missing one letter.
-CR
(written for a dear friend who was neglected by her mother)