She tried to be pretty for you,
For your eyes and lips.

She pulls back her hair
And sprays on a little perfume…
That’s what she saw all the others doing.

She still watches,
For you.

She knows you like watching.
Things.
Birds

With

Her.

She doesn’t want to die so much
Now.
She watches the birds
And notices
Their colors.
Their sounds.

She still tries to be pretty.

She wears only the colors
She can match to the birds.

She loves you.

Breathing in, she holds back the tears.
She wonders if birds cry.
From then on,
She watches more closely
To try and catch one shedding a tear.

Possibly, maybe,
Perhaps,
She can be pretty.

Maybe she can be good enough.

She wants to die
Every once in a while.
She doesn’t tell you.

There is a cliff at the edge of these woods,
She thinks.
She thinks.
She thinks.