She lives inside
of a bubble
to protect from
outside threats
pretending life can be
lived without frets
while ignoring the ones
that live in the mirror;
the heart that lives in fear
of exposure to anything real
because she believes
consequence doesn’t exist
if she never takes risks

Until she acknowledges
the sufferance
that can’t be avoided
her life will consist of
a lonely oceanic view
where she dances alone,
even with company that’s new,
a part of her will always
feel empty, hollow
unless the bubble bursts
and she accepts the reality
that life is supposed to hurt