unsung melodies

She buried them deep, but not deep enough for her to simply forget. It was well hidden from others but it was shallow enough for her to dig up easily. Many times people came over and many times she wanted to tell them. To show them her own box. A Pandora's box of gritty darkness, confusion, pain, and longing. It was the fear of judgment that got the better of her. It was the fear that they would no longer look at her the same that stopped. Maybe that's why her relationships felt flimsy, felt fake and it was difficult for her to connect truly. It was raw, yet not too recent of a wound. But it didn't heal. She could almost feel the maggot underneath, festering and thriving. Ugly. She was so ugly. She never stopped feeling ugly. She never stopped feeling unworthy.

I saw her today, and she was a mesmerizing brand of magic. She shone whenever light hit her, and glimmered in softness and grace. As the light dances and plays with her hair, the gentle shine and warmth of a halo covers her figure. It was in the way she moved that eyes loved to follow her, watching her send their hearts falling and falling. But no one knew of the monsters and darkness she gave birth inside of her. The burden that hit like a comet, blinding and destructive. Whilst her eyes were as beautiful in the pure essence of the word, she could not see what was in front of her. There was no mirror that showed her promises of a better time and of  better place. Diminished, exhausted, and haunted by demons she could not see and yet she tries to smile each and every time. I can almost taste the spirit of her smile slowly disappearing to oblivion as she thought of the prevalence of complete misery cripple her. And with her every laugh, it drains the entirety of her. It was ...