And as she called it love
and put him on his very own pedestal
I watched in silence
she was beautiful
yet her soul seemed empty
her eye\'s dark, as the depth of the deepest sea
the sad thing was
she could never see it for herself
blinded by her need not to acknowledge
glancing in the dark broken mirror
was something forbidden
brushed off
as if it were dust from a book shelf
reading, she loved to read
yet, she left her books upon those shelves of dust
and all he did
was remind her she was worth naught
until one day
she found courage to stand up for herself
the pedal stool taken back
those shelves now open books of her favorite poets
men who actually taught her something
be it vulgarity or dark, and of course, love
she now believed
and each morning
she dusted those beautiful books
with eyes that shone
the thing most extraordinary to me?
she never ever spoke with anger
of those dark yet memorable moments
she simply said
I wouldn\'t be me without them
and I?
well, I silently admire her beauty
from her reflection
In the now, unbroken mirror.