M-Image

M – Week 5 Poem

Their voices slowly fade,

she stands there mind racing until she is completely alone.

She waits to breathe easily again.

Eyes closed, hesitant to open,

arms, turn to hands, then, fingers intertwining overhead,

torso swaying,

her smile melts, the fake expression vanishing off her face. Soul at ease but empty,

looking blankly, focused on a reflection she knows too well.

Set on a wall of mirrors,

possessed by the fluid movements it mimics.

She sighs as each of her feet leave the ground,

weightless for a moment,

and,

in an instant she feels the cold hard wood against her blistered, bloodied, broken toes.

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