With bitten lips and tear-burnt eyes
you tell her your new tragedy
she listens to the hurt and pain
and smiles as she writes it down in her mind
what you cannot say, she will shout for you
or sing, or whisper- whatever you prefer
her arms are tight around you
as you spit your angry words
and she listens and remembers
and tones them into music
into her world
and she dances as she tells your story
and makes faces when you’re happy
and cries with you when you need her
not everyone can hear her
some believe she says nothing real
she’d never lie, but they don’t understand
when she speaks, they hear gold-toned lies
or steel-stained epithets
or excuses for more hate
but her gift is taking words from you
and touching them with a silver finger
and giving them her beauty
and it doesn’t matter if they hear her right
if they understand your feelings
she’s trying her hardest for you.
