Her eyes
full of stories that need telling

Her fingers
sore from all the hands she held on to
too tightly

Her body
it trembles with every whisper
of love and lust and lies

Her name
etched on their minds even after they lost her

Her hips
these mountains that call them

Her soul
a temple they swore they'd worship

Her secrets
these are what's left of her
and yet she writes
too honestly, too often

Her poetry
this is how you
fix her