she is
the backbone
that bends so flexibly but
does not break, the
fragile thing that bears
more weight than he
could ever hope to carry,
she is
the contradiction in the
thinness of a seashell,
years have calcified her
apparent weakness into
stone
she is
what all other women secretly
want but are
ashamed to be,
because they are
preoccupied with the
art of self-painting
yet
all i see in his eyes is anger,
and all i see in hers is love
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