Thirsty for love.

(Picture people rushing in a crowded street)

She is in denial.

Running running running.

No silence. Please.

Can’t stand to think about it.

.

(Picture engraved black letters on a tombstone overgrown with weed)

Self hate.

So strong.

Engraved. Accepted. 

Feared.

.

(Picture an old well.)

Sadness as its own purpose.

Despair. 

It physically hurts.

She is confused.

Thirsty for love.

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Three Perfect Shots.”

That was three shots, but I have the fourth.

(Picture woman standing in light, light goes from inside her and outside, it surrounds her.)

The wall has collapsed.

And she liberated herself.

She found a well.

She is not as thirsty anymore. ❤