Wild Heart Scribe

Been looking for her for a long time,
got so she couldn’t recall her own face.
When her veil of tears lifted, she could see glimpses of herself
like a passing shadow against a red-orange high noon sun,
a half–sculpted silhouette against a sliver of an incandescent midnight moon.
He is the amplifier in her personal revolution.
He ripped her out of the shadows and
lied her down in plain view.
He does not create her for she has been.
No, he instead infuses her, lightens her, even carries her,
and in response she lets herself be…
silly, sexy, smart…
sweet, sure, soft…
All that she had to cease being…
She is.

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