oh, she'll be fine.

she is staggering
on the precipice of
a cliff, a bridge, rush hour traffic
still unable to pretend

an empty bottle beside the bed
a blade in her right fist
all of her cards thrown in the dirt
she is pulling the hair
from her sweating brow,
left at the altar,
receiving a life sentence,
tearing off her dress,
skin exposed to torrential rain,
left wandering alone
on the high plains,
alone and wicked

she is unable to pretend
that she was ever enough


© 7.11.13 heather brager