Recovering Ii Poem by Scott Ransopher

A kind of smile--not much of one, he knows
A smile it was, at least. The wound appears
But superficial, bruises cannot show.
Her ego's scars revealed in brushed-back tears,
In muffled sobs in distant rooms they flow.
He dares not venture there to calm her fears.

Forlorn, but game, she carves uncharted trials
With instinct, hope and love her only guides.
He follows her. Although the jungle's veils
Were woven by his folly, he's the one who slides
Behind. He sees no out, his courage fails.
Upon her shoulders frail, their future rides.

The victim is the victor: she shall choose
To what extent they two shall win and lose.