Her Worlds

The suit didn’t help, 
it was linen after all 
not chainmail 
or plated armour, 
it wasn’t Kevlar, 
built proof 
or sadness proof, 
just a business suit. 
A facade, 
a costume worn 
to play a role 
in a make up world 
all her own. 

She still woke 
in the night, 
silk sheets twisted 
around running legs 
and a monster 
under her bed. 
Running, hiding
in a real world
all her own

© Dave Kavanagh @ daithiocaomanaigh.com

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