For Teresa


We were close, others closer –
Not blood sisters, pledge sisters.

Until it was too late, we
couldn’t understand the demons behind
the smiling eyes,
the infectious laughter,
the kind heart, and
the endearing soul
of a sister in the bond.

She was in torment, but
we didn’t know,
we couldn’t see,
she wouldn’t tell.
We didn’t help.

Everyone has something lurking just underneath the surface.

About justbrinkley

poetry, flash fiction, prompts from a southern granny who should have been a writer.
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