Sips from a dusty old bottle

So, lost for so long
each unlocked door seems to hold the answers.
With anticipation and fear the handle turns
This new door opens
Stepping over its threshold
Knowing to never look back
A new form of self has taken the next step



Words can be beautiful gifts
that hold you up
They can also be knives, continually cutting deeper than imaginable
Smiles are masks
Positivity a costume.
Worn perfectly by the broken



When words are repeated, they are often tossed with shards of glass
unwittingly allowing vultures to gather where you rest



Dancing on finger tips quenched briefly by tears
The smallest spark
has the potential to become the wildest of fires






She looks through the eyes of a child
Searching for wonder and lost innocence
She cries alone in corners
Wipes make-up from windows to a soul
Too tired to fight
Too afraid to carry on
She blinds you with a well learned smile
Everything is fine
Puppet on a string
Laugh on cue
Pieces to a never ending puzzle
Held like fire in hands soft as petals
Cut deeply
Unforgiving grip
Tourmaline reflecting unimaginable colour
Cold stone
She baits you
Look as long as you dare
She never was


Strength to surpass fear is anchored in stone

❤ Leigh

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