She wakes before the sun,
packs two lunches—one for school,
one for work,
if she remembers to eat.
She brushes her child’s hair
while tying back her own pain.
She looks in the mirror and sees
a woman who stayed too long
for someone who only knew
how to disappear.
He said forever,
then broke it quietly.
Took the best of her years
and left her with
bills, baggage,
and...
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