She’s left with an echo of past regrets
Her shadow always shorter in length,
trying to catch her in transit
between the light and dark
Remnants of her inner child,
trying to catch up
the voice of her innocence, replaced with the trials of consequence
if only she were to listen,
If only,
what she won’t do,
She can do for love
She slow dances with thoughts of a safe hold around her heart
What it would look like for those hands not to be so calloused, so harsh
But as soft as the earth after the rain has poured
As kind as the moonlight on her skin eyelids
How she wished she could be held
If only,
What she won’t do,
She can do for love
In times of reflection she traces the edges of her mask
made from clay, moulded through the absence of innocence
She flirts with the idea of letting it fall into ashes
If she were to look closer
She’ll see
Her youth dancing in the dark circles of her pupils
If only she could reach out,
She’ll see instead of a mask, she holds flowers
She was destined to walk on rose petals,
not amongst the remnants of clay
If only she chose her steps carefully
Tread lightly
Back to her younger self
If only,
What she won’t do
She can do for love
Of self