From Your Secret Admirer

Thursday, February 04

By Niamh Donnelly

I loved her before they got to her.

She was happy.

Her eyes shone bright like the stars on a clear night.

There was something brilliant about her smile, 

I could never help but return it.

She walked with her head held high and her

shoulders back.

She was a sight to behold, the muse waiting

for its artist, waiting to be captured oh so perfectly

and I will not let her simmer any longer on the canvas.

I will paint her picture.

 

I still love her after they got to her.

Her eyes are darker now, almost always filled

with tears waiting to be shed.

I haven't seen her smile in months, I think I've

forgotten how to smile too.

Her eyes never leave the ground as she walks

with her shoulders slumped as if

her face is something to be hidden.

She is still a sight to behold, she's as beautiful

as ever but I wonder what they did to make her forget.

I regret not painting you sooner.

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