Those People Will Come.

People approached her with an appeal to her shirt.

I love your shirt.

Gosh, your shirt is beautiful. 

She was polite and said thank you,

With a broken smile.

Other small talk chattered around the compliments.

She left the conversation with an emptiness, 

An emptiness she thought she could never fill.

People were attracted to her appearance:

Her shirt.

Her perfume.

Her bag. 

She had a constant fog of wonder, 

If people liked her soul.

Her shattered heart broke her soul.

It grew bars and barbed wire,

And had a constant thump of caution.

Her heart yearned for more.

More connection.

More love.

More understanding.

The turtle repelled back into her shell.

She wanted to be free.

Not to have the bars,

The barbed wire,

The shell.

Did people like her soul?

The hidden strength,

That she locked up so tightly and frantically,

Had to be released.

She had to give people her soul.

And find people who helped her heart thump without caution,

Without worry.

Strong one,

Those people will come.  

DiarySage MathersComment