.


She wore her loneliness

Like it were a saintly

Cross of gold

::

Speaking of DEVINE pain

( for she knew so very

Little of love )

:•:

she lies in her bed and begs

For

A dream to descend

Into her bitter

Cold despair

•

I who love her smile at her shame

Knowing laughter as what might heal

Knowing her as one in a "hiding place "



Allowing sadness to become her friend

Is what destroys her in the end



.