, , , , ,

She packed them down,

and packed them hard.

Like they were cigarettes.

But you can smoke cigarettes,

And burn them to a butt.

But the feelings she had been packing down.

Came out of her like a waterfall.

A waterfall,

that couldn’t bottled up anymore.

Or burned.

Or forgotten.

They were just marks down her face.

That people would Ignore.

Because she gave a piece of herself to all of them.

And they took her and left.