What you endure

Dabble in the dark, and close the door.

Fumbling at buttons, and fall to floors.

Reaching out for faces; finding more.

Breathing into spaces; bent, she braces her core.

Clawing walls for switches, to see the score.

Counting the stitches she must endure.

—

It’s not often I write a disclaimer, but here it is. I did not know where this poem was going, and it is not based on any life event I’ve witnessed or been told. Sometimes the words just kinda happen. I was hesitant to post, but it made me more nervous to keep it hidden.