She waited and waited
with her fingers on the window pane
and face of anxiety meeting its match.
There was nothing there to have fear nor
was there drama powerful enough for all
to come to her and let her rule.

She was all too different
she had the face of a model and the
body of an addict.
That is what the magazine article
said.
She would sprint to catch her people,
she wrestled her schedule to find time
for them.
Begging for others to stay and could
never be strong to let go.

This is who she had,
this is what they wanted,
she had no choice but to keep them,
she had to pretend all along.

She stared out the window pane
she got frustrated as she stormed
to the table with coffee pouring and
tea from the kettle.
She poured herself a cup,
and as the drink burned her mouth,
she remembered the pain that felt too
relevant as nobody was there.

They were not who she had,
she lied for so long that she was no
fool.
The fire in her throat was the transparence of
voicemails asking when they could come back.
She put all her time and effort into those who did
not care for her, and never took time to nod at the ones
who actually did.

Years passed,
many were renamed and overlooked,
no wrists were grabbed,
no one was getting on their knees.
She let them do their thing and never took
space for granted.

The tea was gone from the mug,
her throat felt better.
Nobody came,
was the perfect time to smash the mug
in order to see where her days of being credulous
were to end in pieces.

She had tea alone and as she
picked up the pieces on the floor,
every shattered glass thrown away
was like letting go of anyone who
abused, assaulted, or
lied.

She just couldn’t be credulous
anymore.
It was time to tell herself the truth and
believe something other than fantasy.
Though no one was at the party,
it was worth telling the truth in the
end.
Something finally felt right.