Fine

Four-letter overused word,
that adds a silent sigh.
Who knows though,
it could just be another little lie.

Folded blanket,
she needs it more or less.
She cries this December night
finding herself in the bitterness.
Lost is the shine in her eyes,
stolen by the one she could hardly ever despise.

Infinite sunshine,
it's there every morning.
She says, "I'm fine"
who knows, she could just be lying.
Bods of truths can surely be found
beneath sheets of paper
that are not to be kept around.

--
28/12/15