by Sylvia Stout

She’d rip the moon in two…
half for her and half for you.
watch the light illuminate your laugh,
while shadows leap and dance;
wild like fire and slow like honey…
dripping with anticipation,
not unlike the fresh paint which struggles 
to conceal her darkest secrets.
casting layer upon layer with dire urgency,
only the hardest truths to keep show through…
bend like bright refracted light,
through the prism long ago shattered;
succumbing to her own masquerade,
she’s bruised but never broken;
distraught but not discouraged…
a love to withstand the eager hour glass,
seemingly sinking with the sands of time…
she finds salvation not a moment too soon;
for all she had to do,
was turn her entire life upside down…