by Nicola Uy
Stitches frame her empty heart.
Even so, it will never be mended again.
Fissures run down her withered palms.
They are from striking his door, hoping he would let her in once more.
She wishes she could go back in time.
But would she desire to relive her misfortunes?
Her demons rage.
They are never silenced.
Every step towards him is agony.
Her soul burns forevermore like embers.
Locked out of peace, she is troubled.
And she will never get better.