The Night In Question

She died that night you know. Throat swollen, mouth open, gasping for air she died. Head down, eyes to ground, mouth quieted she died. The sun of her smile, that lit up with the ease of a morning rise, eyes that darted and danced and glistened like the moon, like the stars touching its gazers, one by one shining just for them, or so it seemed. Her mouth, quick witted tongue, that challenged you, praised you, filled your ear with self-proclaimed truths and thoughts of justice. You hated those words because they were so different than your own but you loved her because she told you her truths, unapolegetically. She dared to be different publicly, daring you to do the same. You loved her and hated her for it. She died that night you know. Told to keep her head down, to swallow her words, shut up! Act same, play the game, question less, submit. Submit or die, resistance is futile. And so she died, head down, eyes to the ground, gasping for air. And the sun never shined again.