She spoke of poetry
as though it were her
goodbye letter.

No-
not to the world,
but to her pain.

And what was baffling
about her was
how someone so beautiful,
both inside-out,
be broken and darkened
by her past.

But something
that I was blinded to
in the beginning
was that even in all
that darkness,
a light so majestic,
absolutely luminous,
existed.

It was her that was
blinded of the true beauty
she was blessed with.

Her insecurities blinded her
of who she really was,
of what she could be
capable of.

She was her own enemy.