The Silver Giraffe
She rubs the silver giraffe around her neck and stares off into the open fields.
“I wonder what will happen when it’s all over?”
She was drenched in the worry of tomorrows and yesterdays.
Too preoccupied in trivial reflection so the ecstasy of each moment was drastically muted.
The taunts of who she was and who she will become flash back and forth in her mind,
Like the violent strokes of heat that flash through a stormy night.
Fears of forever remaining inadequate to the expectations of others burn her down to her rooted core.
She rubs the silver giraffe around her neck.
“I wonder my purpose?”
She sews together her two thin lips and gazes towards the sunset.
It’s soaked in a crimson red.
This gives her small lips a break from the impatient motion,
Turning them into an upward curve of her mouth.
She realized that the sunset looked prettier when it was dripping in the vibrant color associated with pain.
It is through this pain that the true beauty is located.
She rubs the silver giraffe around her neck and stars down at her chest.
She realized that the color of her shirt is the most vibrant shade of red she’d ever seen.
She looks in the mirror and smiles.