woman in window photography by kinga cichewicz

you wake up one morning
and with realization you say…
i am the woman they speak of
scorned and torn from her essence
tattered and frayed
a goddess unwoven in her vulnerability

streams of memories fall from your eyes
the back of your hand; a towel to your wet mess
although the brokenness remains a force raging in your subconscious
you stand up and say it’s a new day
but in your voice there is still silence

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