Enchanted

She sits alone staring at the empty walls of this house which has long since stopped being a home. Weary, sadden, defeated by the solitude that has become life.

Searching for answers, a respite from the dreariness, she pays reluctant homage to the spirit. Trying to erase the memories of the years lost. With every ascension of the spirit to her lips, the mind slips into a numbness, and the pain of the years past stream down her warm cheeks.

Then the levee of what was supposed to be her happily ever after breaks through in mournful torrents of bitter salty tears.

She praises the spirit once more, convinced of its ability to numb the pain and break down the walls of this self constructed prison. And for a moment freedom comes, ushered in by the sandman, and she is unconsciously happy. She has not known happiness for some time now.

Tomorrow it begins again.

Her smile has been hijacked, replaced by the pretense of contentment. Her spirit whipped to its knees. She wears her misery like a cilice, in a misguided penance, punishment for having the audacity to seek happiness in this short life. But no one sees her pain, no one notices her wince with every step, no one sees her dying inside, no one hears her lonely cries.

Beguiled by disposition, she rushes forward into tomorrow, motionless, muted.

Today will end; and a new tomorrow will break on the horizon of this torment.

Tomorrow life begins again. Tomorrow take flight.