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Without Shying away with a Faint, Forced Smile
Streetlights passing by reflected
In her storm of mixed
Emotions render her tears
Makes a wish with every salty
Drop on her lips.
Lips one man would touch briefly
With the tip of an adoring thumb, and
By that satisfaction alone
While others see her as a tool, tossed
Back into the box when dull and
Fit for a throne, yet only every odd evening
Finds her way to bed from the sofa
Before sleep finds her fading with fatigue.
Shoulders, neck, back, wrists, all
Aching in unison; a choir of
Discontentment, yet still driven by the
Love for her teenage
I always hope she's laughing. I
Always hope she sleeps.
In my mind I rest a hand upon her
Belly when she dreams; the
Only way she'll accept a touch
Without shying away
With a faint, forced smile.
Beams of full moon finding their
Ways through bedroom curtains to her
Nearly closed eyes. She yawns a tear or
Three and turns towards the pale
Warmth; moonlight again rendering
Them falling stars.
No wishes for now.
Rest is her only lover.
I always hope she sleeps.
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