She lost her voice
in her early mid-teens
to the teenage beauty queens
who made her feel
like
nothing.
N-O-T-H-I-N-G
too easily
would rhyme and ring,
in simple tunes,
beauty queens would sing.
If they only knew
how it would bleed
from glass above her bathroom sink.
Fading slowly,
like a star
she lights her candles
in glowing glass jars,
praying that her silver scars
will be erased,
now.
There’s a calendar on her wall.
It’s been changed
through seven sunny Falls.
Now.
At nearly twenty-three
she speaks about vulnerability
unguarded
bohemian
tranquility.
She found her voice
in reflection by choice,
with glowing glass jars
singing
SERENITY.
She found her voice
thanks to those teenage beauty queens
who made her feel
like
speaking.