voice.

we met for a few hours. it was chilly. the kind where you cup your hands around your coffee mug and curl your shoulders into the table. conversation moved gracefully and carefully because when someone has been emotionally beaten up, you know to move gently. words balancing on top of topics, we settled into one for a while. we let the silence fill the space, until she landed her heart into the hole of her pain, "he stole my voice." and the tears fell. 

i fumbled around words, trying to find the right ones to fix her, knowing i had none. she recounted moments when she left herself, fell away in the shadows, and lost who she was. and after all the lies, all the betrayal, and all the pain, she was left with one thing, silence. 

the only way to have a voice is to speak, "give your voice a voice." i said.  and we did that that morning. we spoke and cried and laughed and even dreamed a little. 

she walked away. and even though we have been friends for years, it felt like we had just met.

***

she is waking up.
she is coming alive.