I noticed her tattoos
felt her pain
even the skull couldn’t cover
his name.
I’m told she became
a clown left in a dusty town
with a bag of broken dreams.
I noticed her eyes
how they appeared estranged
from life moving about
as though she would spend
an eternity on a half off rack.
I’m told an artist once tried
to paint upon her face a smile
but abandonment has just one
color, a letdown gray.
Her pain I felt
as though my own..
