i stand there, watching her innocent face, spread with
the last authentic smile she’ll share with the world
frozen onto the fragment of paper
i want to sink into the paper,
i want to be in that moment with her
tell her how important she is
something i’d hope she’d hear, at least once
but deep inside me,  i know she won’t.
she is just a bud. An innocent child
she barely even knows
what the world has in store for her
that the worst is yet to come
i want to go up to her and reassure her
that although she’s going to go through hell
and back again
she’s gonna be okay
she’ll scream at him to stop
she’ll expose her wounds and scars
to her mother, her friends, her lover.
she will slowly open up,
like all flowers do.
exposing her vulnerabilities to the world
and trusting them finally
to not harm her
i know and hate  that she’ll suffer greatly over the years,
but she’ll also grow,
and bloom like a sweet spring flower.
she’ll spread her petals open
and finally let the sunshine in.
i whisper to her gently
knowing that she won’t hear
we can do this