So She Sits There

So she sits there, poised, her elbows resting

On the arms of a mahogany chair;

The bangs of her hair are arranged just at

The right degree—at ease and comfortably slanted—

In order to cast a protective shade

Over the cold uncertainty that still flickers in her eyes.


Her fingers, interlocking, is an attempt

To stop herself from yearning for a hand to hold,

And she sits there, with her legs crossed

To trick those muscles into forgetting

What it was like to walk beside him

Under the cherry blossom trees.


Such wondrous, magnificent poetry. 


So she sits there. With great consideration and precision,

She tugs away the floating anxieties of a girl, shoves the

Boisterous quirkiness into silence, and her innocent appreciations

Into carefully chosen interests that represent womanhood.

Abruptly, she redefines herself through the power of will,

And avoids mirrors at all cost.


So she poses for the camera, purposefully,

Occupying this moment with her practiced grace.

This picture, after it’s been transferred, cropped,

Colour-toned and uploaded onto her Facebook page

Is meant to be adored.


An intelligent dreamer at her best.


As she obscures the truth with a smile and

Mends the ever-changing world with meticulous

Automatic correction, like Microsoft Word underlining

A sentence that is grammatically awkward, or

A word that is misspelled. The brilliant intricacies of her mind

Delete and reinsert the letters of reality—

Ushering the story towards its rightful conclusion,

Against all odds.


This is how it’s supposed to end.


So she sits there, poised, like a wounded goddess

Falling out of love, the same way she’s fallen into love

Waiting to be seen, wanting to be remembered

Dreaming of becoming the thing he has lost.


One comment

  1. slpmartin · July 23, 2011

    This is a marvelous portrait of much injected into those lines…brilliant write IMHO.

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