Unseen and huddled as she was in full view,
she released dangerous tears anew.
They flowed beneath her cheeks on the inside,
falling to her heart’s emotional lies.
A little voice, calling itself Hope, held her as one,
encouraging her to see pictures where there were none.
In those pictures she was defined,
images of someone she liked just fine.
Later, in her excited state,
she remembered her place
when it was too late…
© September 2016, Christina Anne Hawthorne
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