Dysfunctional Beauty

She had

Chocolate eyes
And
Chestnut curls

That fell upon her shoulders.


A delicate silken cloak
Meant to block out
The curious gaze of others.


She asked me to
Write her
Free
and
beautiful.

Leaving out the

Ugly

green
And blues

That flawed her Carmel complextion.

A
Slave to the
Needle

I couldn't write her
Free..

Her freedom laid with
The demons in her head.

A bed
she made
and couldn't
Unmake.

Beautiful, yes..

A windchime giggle

Earth brown
Autumn red
Sunlit golden hair.

Endless eyes
Content
and
contemplative

Regardless of her woes.



She reminded me of

A
Wounded bird
Left to perish in the rain

Yet one that still
Carried out a
Sweet
and
enchanting tune.

Nights spent
selling herself

For glass and needles

A purchaser
Of slow suicide.


I couldn't
stitch her
Wounds
Or
Fill in all the cracks.


All her stained glass miseries.


But I offered her

Comfort
An ear
A hug
A shoulder


And my shower.

Regardless of my
Open judgement
And ongoing lectures
She always found her
Way back to my always
Open door.