Photo by Artem Beliaikin on Pexels.com

Earlier, she was the laughing girl

the sparkle of the party

a dancer

burning on the living room rug

glowing with the wine, her biggest fan

he thought the fire was for the catching

Today, she looks worn

as a suitcase well-traveled

her face

dragged through the mud

of her superman

still, his words were really something

Later, she is weary

as a weak cup of coffee

her eyes

robbed of any desire

to go on

but she wants something more

for her son

some kind of sign

to soothe the fires of hell within

even the smallest word of life

would release the bird

from the cage, she found herself in