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 Pages Of A Woman's Soul


Dead woman walking,
her spirit all but gone;
a long forgotten memory
called happiness
flitting through the
dark recesses
of her mind…

She does her chores
mechanically, like clockwork,
knowing that she only has
a few quiet hours
in which to finish
before they all tumble
in through the door…

Her thoughts are on
auto-pilot, her motions
concise and efficient,
knowing that it all
must be perfect
before he gets home
or they will all
suffer at his hands…

As she passes the mirror,
at first glance all she sees
is the dirt that needs
to be wiped clean,
but then, as her gaze
falls on her own face
she freezes at what
she sees in her
own reflection…

How did she get so old at 45?

And as she peers into the
question that haunts her,
revealed within her
quizzical expression,
she gently lays down
the cleaning cloth,
smooths back her hair,
walks through the front door…

and never looks back.

K.Tate Jacoby
Copyright June 16, 2010

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