Secret Tears Post Mortem

an envious tear slid down her face

like a flawless diamond

reaching for her heart

she wanted to be like those other girls

the festive, dainty butterflies

that danced to songs she couldn’t hear

the way the other girls' laughter

echoed thunderously 

while she trembled in solitude

made her every breath seem pointlessly 

long and merciless

if she could only,

for just an instant

feel what it’s like

for her heart to beat like theirs

or confuse their sighs

for hers

she’d die in a bliss filled dream

and the very thought of it

is killing her

again

Reviews

[Beccy]

The average life of a butterfly is a month. But the span, short as it is, seems like forever to the excluded girl; the one who thinks she is not quite as pretty as the others, is perhaps carrying a few more pounds than the stick thin insects adorning the pages of those vacuous fashion magazines, that in my view are a waste of paper.

Within is always what has counted, but you cannot tell that to the tear stained girl who stands alone, waiting, wondering, if just for a moment she will become a butterfly.

This moved me.

Beccy.