While the world thinks she's back on track,
She spends her mornings behind curtains drawn,
Noons at the cafe where they used to go,
Sleepless nights finding out where to start.

She drew her pen and spelled her thoughts.
Empty words, clingy clichés,  broken oaths were new metaphors.
Sentences gushed one after the other like devastating waves of a stormy weather.
Tired eyes brimming, her heart ebbing with hope.