untitled six

At her sickest, she wore the thin-lipped smile--
but everything was a little thin about her, then.
Selflessly and recklessly she’d give of herself,
and careful to ask, to not impose, she’d never smile first.
Programmed to be what was wanted, provide what was needed,
she was too free, too insubstantial,
too indefinite to love.

But before the end, the boys would
listen to her talk and watch her sing, or smile as
she bubbled with her latest passion. Simultaneously
more controlled and more intense than anyone,
and (desperately) free with her love,
she lived as if to combat her own mortality.

Until, at last, came the falter, and the misstep,
exaggerated by years of too-carefully-placed feet:
her only mark on her lonely world. She lived
unforgettably, both beautiful and sad,
with eyes that burned first cold, then hot,
but ever shined with tragic light.

He said he liked the sparkle in her eye...