you never see it in her eyes
the discomforting shadow
who rests beneath the disguise

prop her up with bamboo
like a limp old flower
so she seems shiny and new

babbling to those who don’t care
and to those who do,
she will not share

reliving in flashes
disturbed by each sting
her heart has turned to ashes
unable to forget anything

as she clutches the wooden bench
she doesn’t feel the splinter
but it doesn’t quite compare
to the pain she felt that winter