She set a hand to the mirror to cover her face.
If she looked at the love inside,
if she accepted it had nowhere to go,
she’d know hope had lied.
How could it be that a heart swelling,
that a heart waiting to please,
should instead die,
wither and weep?
lost and forgotten,
how could it be that so much love
—was a burden?
©February 2018, Christina Anne Hawthorne