She’s never going back to the woman she used to be. Essence of her rose watered down,
shimmer in her eye dulled with compliance. Fear used to dominate her actions turned inactions,
the chances never taken and words left unsaid. Her hair is growing, you know,
in places she’s never seen it thrive- her body previously unexplored by her own touch-
body gazed by all eyes but her own- love poured into the wrong souls.
Tonight she’ll wear her love on the outside: shoulders, head, feet adorned
by garments divine as she. Stilettos? No my darling, you’ve got her all wrong.
She’ll love you in an instant and leave you twice as fast. High heels are no good for running away.
words by Teresa.O