There's a quiet fierceness in the way she walks,
The way her hips swing when she walks past a group of people.
There's a quiet pain hidden deep inside her when she sits down,
Collectively compressing herself to whatever she's sitting down against,
Eyes darting around the room while pulling a fake smile and shoving down fear
There's a quiet demand of attention when she pulls her arms together,
The frown on her face and the shadow flickering across her face demanding you pay attention
When she sleeps, there is a tight coil unwinding itself, unwinding and unwinding
Only to tighten when she wakes up screaming in the night,
Hand pressed against her chest, eyes wide, breath short, heart pounding.
There's a dignified brokenness about her,
The quiet fraying of her edges and noticeable bags under her eyes a dead giveaway
Her vault of secrets are closed, locked and hidden away deep inside her
Inside the part of her that wishes there could truly be a dignified brokenness that could wash away her sorrows
There's a small part of her that withers away, next to the vault of secrets and whispers,