Still, and slight

Still, and slight, and understated gold that doesn’t need to catch the light to shine. She shapes the room from just behind her line as others miss how much she’s learned to hold. Abandoned, left, to freeze out in the cold - gifting, so much, too much, she can’t define what’s left of hers and what’s to be resigned between the life she chose and what she’s owed.

But I have faith she still feels something now I’ve seen her laughter crack that mask in two, her eyes gone crescent, light across her brow, and all at once she’s wholly into view. There is no floor to her. I can’t see how deep down she goes. I only know it’s true. [To stop wanting more. Instead, I fall through.]