Mary in the morning, and Mary at night

-Dedicated to all of the girls who scream out for something more-

Mary screamed

and all was silent again.

Morning turned around

it was night again

bending

and breaking

against this stupid congress of lack and love.

Love?

Love is simplicity

love is seeing

Mary

for who she is-

skin

and bones

now

and not the happy smile shaking your wealthy bosses hand.

The filter

of hot coffee

was poured down the sink again

and dinner was just a half a' hour away.

Mary screamed

and clenched her black fingernails against her black dress

as though

her anger

would give the day back to us all.

My hand on the doorknob

aghast

and bending my head in a sigh

because here we go again.

All over

again.

She went away

where none of us could follow her

deep into the place

where she is ugly

and unseen

even though

she's right in front of us.

She became a stranger

in those stolen hours

backwards world

from day to night.

She slashed her wrists

wanting it all out of her

everything

every last bone

and thought

freed from her skin.

She wanted liquid limbs

so she could fold

and frame herself around the situations that she wanted to run away from.

She wanted to be clear beauty

rather then this tainted soul screaming at time tonight.

Mary screamed

and with each drop of blood

lost to her was a memory

of us all tonight.

No one would enter her world

no one could

so none of us new

the lengths that she was going to free herself.

Mary

was enchanted by the Fresh language

and had always wanted to see Paris before she died.

Mary

was enchanted by romance novels

and the men that would sweep her away from herself and into their pages.

Mary

never hurt anyone

before she hurt herself

so badly

that the light

turned back to the dark.

It was morning

but in the flash of an instant

it was night again.

Mary

against herself

and her enemies.

She fought a battle

where she herself was the enemy.

We all moved our pieces across the board

all

with our own agendas

but she

stopped long ago.

I see no point

in the refusal to see what's right in front of you

or the whisper of shame

said in vain

rather then love

that people could have given to her.

Mary

stopped eating

and

Mary

stopped speaking

and then finally

Mary

stopped breathing.