She just wants to be a closed book,

or maybe an open book with no lines printed.

She wants to see but not just with her eyes, but maybe she only wants her heart to be of sight.

She wants to feel but not only with her skin by touch, but maybe with her bones and blood.

She wants to hear, not only with her ear’s alone, but maybe she wants the words to echo deep into her mind and soul.

The ugliest she wore was a smile, yet they called beautiful and priceless.

Her thoughts murmur no sense, because she once had a vision to purpose.

She wants to dream, but maybe she knows that she can’t do it with her eyes open.

She wants to feel loved, but maybe volume of aching that it carries ways her off.

She wants a keeper, but maybe all she needs is a Calvary that doesn’t require her sacrifice .

The prettiest she remembers is the day she was born naked and not ashamed,

She was unreleased to the world, yet clinging her soul to another soul she, 

Her body covered with her mother’s blood, or maybe her blood to her mothers.