Her Idol Was Love

When they look her way,

I wonder what they say.

She’s too quiet.



Frozen in time.

I wonder if they know

she wants to laugh so freely.

Without care. Without worry.

Without fear she should be

improving something.

Pushing herself harder,

new heights.

Instead, she’ll hang her head,

stare at her shoes.

Dare herself never to come clean

about the secret she’s been keeping.

The one she whispers to God before

her eyelids flutter back to dream

I am pusillanimous. No

accolades can ever save me. Is this

why no one loves me?


2 thoughts on “Her Idol Was Love

  1. Oh but you are loved, and if this is fictional, so is whomever you refer…I have siblings I have never met no doubt, but if I trace back far enough, surely we are connected, and I need never meet you to love you.

    • This isn’t fictional. Thank you for that. It made me tear up. I love you, Belinda. This is a struggle for me, to see I am loved, without some kind of work behind it. I am so thankful God has shown me this lately through people like you. ❤️

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