It was a hiding place,
but not hidden enough.
She waited for the soft voice,
but the soft voice never came,
She waited for the soft touch,
but the touch that came
bruised her soul, broke her bones.
She waited for the tears,
but tears weren’t allowed,
tears were weakness for which she must atone.
Hope said someone would come, there’d be a hug…
©May 2016, Christina Anne Hawthorne