Sometimes I think, why I am trying to put my thoughts to words, to the flutterings of my conflicted heart. You never understood me when you had access to everything I was, when my life and mind was an open book there for your perusal at any time. And now I'm writing thinking you'll understand based on little pieces of me... Based on momentary fleeting descriptions of transient emotion that are as eclipsed and opposing as the Phoenix and the Ash, but not as correlated or as certain. Why would you ever see the fire in me, when there is also ice? You always saw the worst in me even when I was flying before your very eyes.

As a child, I saw fairytale playing out in the expressive eyes of those around me. Their crinkled lines told stories of glory and daring adventures, their sighs held mysteries to be explored and there was treasure and beauty around every corner. Every dream held a mermaid or an angel. Every spare moment held one of these dreams. And every footstep in murky water was filled with endless possibilities like fishes in the sea.

As a child, my heart was soft spoken yet loud, my eyelashes were wishes, my teeth were my income, my fingernails were sacred painting spaces untouched by nerves or fear, my hair a glowing growing thing that would one day be let down for a boy who would save me from the tower and evils I knew nothing about. And my hands… my hands held the world, just as my heart loved it.

And I will shed just two tears tonight;

One for you and your lack of fight,

One for myself, for all my plight.