The weight of alone

The thoughts that sting,
are raw marks on her mind
the whipping reminders that she is 
/never/
good enough
burned into loathing retinas
the horrid reflection she faces,
and shatters
silver shavings surround her as if to say
"you can not escape yourself"
settling into her curls,
the hatred sparkles in the morning light,
        it was only one of those times,
where the silence became laden 
and alone dropped like cinder blocks from the sky
undoubtedly crushing her every dream,
Had I not left her,
            had what was said not been said,
then she would be here, 
        not a bloody mess,
and the silver shavings would reflect us both 
                                 and the beauty would illuminate