why is she so silent
a houseplant stirring
rattles more than her
bones do
weak fiber, I think not
her absence withers
men’s souls
as we hang on Vines
she in her middle age
having no need to
revive them
their juice that once tasted so sweet
has just a touch of
bitterness
as she replants her roots
and hopes to grow without them
all her debts of the past
paid in full
and if she chooses to pick fruit
that tangles before her
she can pick and choose
no longer coming to this
out of need or as a cure
for lonesome blues
she has herself to keep company with
and that is more than enough
her silence is not smug nor arrogant
just satisfied
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