the window that knew her name…

behind the curtain a window misted up

as she repeatedly exhaled her dispare

upon the condensated pane,

 

a finger traced patterns

symbolising the pain, misled confusion

in the morning, a mark remains

upon a soul, flecked and stained,

 

impossible to clear,

again she resides, the curtain, her comfort

the window, her shame.

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One thought on “the window that knew her name…

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