Silent Narrative


A silent narrative
underlies her humanness;
her every action 
an overflow of flimsy meaning,
every response 
choked with blather and woes.

No escape of disenchantment
from the vaporous mist 
of her consumption.

Lacking spirit
and amazement,
she closes her eyes
and shaves her head
to ward of perplexity.

With weary eyebrows
and caterpillar lashes
she paints herself
for war against
not enough; 
to feel alive,
to truly matter,
yet is cumbered
in the cheerless gravity
of discontent
that never fades away.

2 thoughts on “Silent Narrative

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