she was afraid, she guessed, of those around her. and who was she, really? to lay her soul bare and clear, on offer in quiet almost hope. more attractive, easier, to riddle and rhyme and mumble and smile and escape accountability. perhaps there are two types. of artists. those discovering and those presenting. most definitely she was the former over the latter.

-

holding steady
going steady
really ready?
quiet medley
hearts are deadly
deep and steadly
no hope. stop.