The words on the tip of her tongue are like daggers
Gliding through silence, stabbing at past memories,
Slicing open old wounds. It hurts - healing. Ripping
Off scabs and washing your hands in lemon juice,
Sorting through pain to find a new way towards
Pleasure, towards peace.
She whispers quietly in the dark,
Her words like fireflies illuminating a path less
Traveled by. Her hands feel around for something
To hold onto and her feet carry her, freed from midnight
Moods full of discomfort and sorrow. She recovers herself
Through inner reflection and metaphorical language manifesting
The words heal her,
Breathing feels easy again.