Les Miserable

I wrote this piece some time ago on one of my many notepads, which like many other things in my life are poorly managed. I'm sure I came across it for a reason, I am one who believes that everything in this life happens for a reason; struggle as we may at the point in time to figure out that reason, but in the fullness of time all is revealed.

So here goes:

Tears stream down her face, memories of her lover's embrace, his feel, his scent, they overwhelm her senses - she weeps for the death of her dream. Why did he do that? Why did he have to remind her of these wretched feelings that she has tried so hard to shackle and lock away.

Gently, she wipes away her tears, inhales the life back to her deflated lungs, reshuffles her mental deck of cards and puts on her best mask to face the rest of the world.

Why did she take off her mask for him, why did she let him in? Cracked but not broken she steps out to face her world. No one in her world understands her pain, no one really sees her, the real her, the exposed her.