A Poem Held Back

She lies on her bed,

Thoughts jumbled in her head.

She turns the empty pages,

Her face instantly ages.

Why can’t she write?

Why is she uptight?

She wishes to let go,

The problem is that she doesn’t know.

She’s alone at home,

She’s on her own.

The paper teases her,

The lines begin to blur.

He broke her heart,

And she doesn’t know where to start.

How she longs for this poem to be let out,

But it’s all inside of her, oh, how she could shout!

She lies on her bed,

Still not a tear has been shed.

She turns the empty pages,

Why are her feelings in cages?

She longs to put pen to paper,

Her soul has dissolved to vapor.

What does it take,

To show how her heart might break?

She determinedly raises her head,

And cuts the painful thread.

She is through, she won’t hurt again,

On others she will not depend.

She is too strong,

The poem has been out of her head for too long.

She won’t write it, why should she remember?

Why keep stirring up the hurtful embers?

The paper will have to do without words,

They’ve long been trapped inward.

She blocks the pain,

And her resolve is plain.

She is through,

There is nothing she will do.

He broke her,

She can put herself back together.

She lies on her bed,

So many things still unsaid.

Her feelings still under attack,

By a painful poem held back.