<center>***She opened the box.
Do you want to see?
She peered into it and 
Dipped her hand within.
See, see this and this, she said,
Poring through stories pale with forgetting.
She stopped and stared at me, her eyes 
A question; do you want to see?
She had a story; worn, tattered,
Wrinkled, bloodied, disheveled.
She asked; do you see? Do you see?
Do you see where broken bodies go?***</center>

<center>***Her eyes were blank
And her smile was far away.
Her voice was cold and empty.
I heard the naïve little girl,
The frailty of fear, the brutality of trust.
I listened to the old tears now shorn of words,
Now bereft of meaning. She wept for the girl
And even for me, her audience, her friend, 
Her fickle lover and journey mate
Even as her eyes remained concrete  
In the place where broken bodies go.***</center>

<center>***Who will cuddle her; this fragile bird
With broken wings still daring to fly?
Who will mend her and teach her 
What it means to flutter her wings
And seek the air, trusting the winds
To keep her aloft, trusting the earth
To catch her fall? Who will mend her?
Who will listen to the silence on her lips
And read the whispered plea in her eyes?
Who will show her where broken bodies go?***</center>

<center>***We stood before the box,
Listening to war wounds whispering new truths.
We listened to battle scars crooning sad songs 
And I watched her half smile and sad eyes.
I wondered where the stories would go
When we were done here?
I wondered; would we ever become whole?
I wondered; would the nightmares ever end?
I wondered; does the sun ever rise in that place,
Yes that place where broken bodies go.***</center>

<center>***I looked at her and I loved her.
I loved her with that passion
That unattained dreams fever.
I knew she would never be mine
But we have met somewhere in time,
We have held hands, locked gazes,
We have exchanged air in sad words,
Copied smiles and written our names 
In a place where broken bodies go.***</center>
***
<center>![photo-1519668752166-ebdbfe986afd.jpeg](https://cdn.steemitimages.com/DQmXES2xuwRFtyWhSS6uk1oq3oLG3qqz6DMmCDtA1U8bDNF/photo-1519668752166-ebdbfe986afd.jpeg)</center><center><sub>*[unsplash: Alexander Krivitskiy](https://unsplash.com/photos/2vXYyYMcnzI)*</sub></center>
***
**I wrote this poem still reeling from a story I heard today. I thought I knew pain. I know nothing.**
***
©warpedpoetic, 2019.