Only She Knows

The laundry

needs a whirl,

The epidermis some exfoliating;

That nest of greasy hair….

Could use a tousle with a brush.

The whole of her calls desperately

For an abundant frolic with some soap,

……or an improvisational meditation,

A kneel down; a shout out for hope.

No one else can see her illness,

No one feels the sluggish, tepid pulse

the dull thump of her blood,

Only she can demand compassion,

The kind her eyes plead for in the mirror,

Only she can know the triumph she lives

No longer dismissing reality with a beer

3 thoughts on “Only She Knows

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