The other she

She walked in unannounced and saw her sitting, staring. 

She looked naked from behind. 
Decrepit in stature. 
The energy was stale and a bit thick. 
She was distant and trying to escape to some sonic world of waves and strings and starlight in the night. 
She tends to see herself in the gray. 
Her hair is annoying and hiding that one’s beautiful face. 
She replays the violin of old memories 
and allows her feelings to be based off the past 
and overcome by the future. 

She is the nonexistent.

A Friend lay by her side trying to add comfort. 
Just lying there not doing anything else except saying:
“I exist. I exist for you if you need me.”

That friend can feel the dead energy
and yet finds a way to brighten the muck.

This is the other She.

She is in awe of this wonderment of Her. 
The Her She knows and loves.
The Her that people deem immaculate, ravishing, and savvy. 

This She is reaching out with a hand of presence to be seen.
One that says ‘it doesn’t matter -
What matters is Her.’

The She calls out to Her
reminding Her of the fierceness, the prowess, the fuck yeahs, the brilliant, the significant, the excellence, the ah-mazing, the saucy, the impeccable, the kind, the wanted, the admired, the gracious, the awesomeness, the powerful, the mighty, the passionate...

It all flows into Her lost mind and fills Her soul with sparks of interest.
Her eyes awaken and Her cells aH-liven.

The corners of her mouth turn upward and Her aura begins to sparkle and shimmer with Life.

She gifts this glow to Her again and again
Because now the Her is ready.

The Her hears a message -
of bravery 
of relentlessness.

To shine on
and to never go dim

For Her light is unlike anything She has ever seen.

Her light is so necessary to this world.
Her hope is the words hope.

xx lynnia
written 2016