Throne

He turns his face 

far away from her pace. 
His silence is tremendously louder than the striking thunder, that it deafen her as she walks. Every inch further, the unheard melodious rhythm of love forces her tight lips to unzip. Yet, she refrains from talking, or hearing. 
But her eyes are wide awake and she could see it. His frown. Harsher than waves slapping the shore, trembling her crown. She holds it up as she runs the race away from his eyes. Keeping her head straight, she wears it like a queen. 
Forcing herself to swallow stones,

Wondering, will it hurt if it’s right?
As she sleeps off the mourn,

She holds her chest tight. 
She knows she’s worth the throne. 

Thus she guards it with all might. 

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