She knows she is asking for too much
The cursed gluttony of her hope
begging for the security, and an
end to panic attacking misery
a broken smile affixed inside her
fake glowing, in a warm soul
she feels the cold, frozen
only partially thawed by the
microwaved
dependency
Strength in a handhold, it quickly folds
on her behalf
Intervening between holding on by letting go
or jumping
from the nest without
a parachute to guide
the inevitable
f
a
l
l
of her optimism,
she is weak, sugar coated docility
masked by strength
and silently liberating hope
