the observation room

 

behind the glass
a shirt with stripes
short hair swept to the side

two unmatched socks
a bright-eyed smile
her painful story hides

with guilty eyes
i fix my stare
deceive her honesty

but then her words
with innocence
invade not her but me

the gibberish
and inside jokes
that always cast some out

the perfect frame
not yet fucked up
but serpents whisper doubt

the muted mouths
and huddled groups
she sinks down in her chair

the colored bands
that serve to match
not styles, but their stares

so brave and bold
her dancing smile
answers cold, hard lines

i fight the urge
to pound the glass
to warn her of a time

when bracelets, they
are traded in
for blades and blood and sting

when beauty comes
at one low price
of only everything

when feeling loved
means darkened rooms
a stranger calls you his

here your glasses
blur the night
forgetting all that is

your future self
she holds her breath
pleads ‘jesus’ on her knees

but even now
at twenty-two
feels pain like she’s fourteen.