She sat alone on a pretty park bench, breathing
in the ugly air. She had encased her body in layers of
wool and worry, but it didn’t keep the cold out.
She felt. She felt the hard wooden boards beneath
her thighs and the metal pressing into her vertebrae.
Her fingertips secretly snuck out of her unraveling
gloves; they were still chapped from endless empty
nights, still grasping for a warmth they knew long ago.

An odor emanated from a pile of courage
in the corner. The lump moved to her throat
and conjured a swarm of guilt like spears that left
scars on her lonely lips and bruises on her unforgiven
hips. She watched as the men splurged together on the
serendipity found in a half-eaten, tofurkey concoction.

Killing the ruins of peace in her desert
chest, she was pulled to the shore. Tasting
the salt on her cheeks and the salt in the air,
gravity guided her to her knees. The water
soaked through her jeans, chilling her knees
and conquered the remnants of her soft spine.
Two bony hands then emerged from the dark
and encircled her homeless heart.