She is 3:00 am.

Dark, and quiet, and lonely.

She is the moon in December.

Dim, and cold, and small.

She is the rain on a Monday.

Exhausted, and gray, and worn.

 

She is the leaves in autumn.

Bright, and warm, and dying.

She is the first snow of winter.

Sparkling, and beautiful, and cold.

She is the first flower of spring.

Bright, and delightful, and small.

 

She knows of her beauty.

She knows of her pain.

She knows of love.

An unrequited, deep love.

She knows of Hell.

A numbing, deep Hell.

She knows of laughter.

A guttural, loud laughter.

She knows of sobs.

A heart wrenching, loud sob.

But mostly,

She knows what she sees in the mirror...

Nothing.