words fall from her tongue and
shatter against the tattered wood floor
beside her feet. she spreads her
warmth across a sea of children and
makes each of
them understand the word ‘home’
even if they can’t speak a single word yet.
her voice melts the cement
walls built around them;
their small hearts beating to
the rhythm of her strumming fingers.
each pluck of the melody
echoes around the darkest corners of her room as she
hides her secrets beneath the floorboards.
shadows caress the fresh
paint around her windows and
demand parts of her soul, and
every time she gives another fraction
away, splintering herself so
that even the greatest of evils can
have a ray of light to carry with them.
Her soul then becomes empty, until a
figure made of pure light teeters slowly
into her lap, unbalanced and unabashed
as it colors in the empty space with a yellow crayon that
smells like lemons and
presses itself to her chest,
finding a bed against her collarbones
and a home
amongst her breath.