It has been one year
to the day
since I spoke to you last.
I do not miss you -
that is not what this is about.
It's just that sometimes
I feel phantom fingers in my hair.
Sometimes old photographs choke me up.
And remembering the good times hurts more
than remembering the bad.

I'm not sure if you would recognize
the way I wear my skin nowadays.
My hair is a different color,
and about a foot longer.

It has been one year,
365 days,
several startling discoveries,
a few tear stained nights,
half a dozen new beginnings,
and at least one bottle of whiskey.
But I still can't get
the taste of you
off my tongue.

Brave girls are not always the perfect ones.
They don't need to fight dragons or win wars.
They do not always know when they are bested.

They are brave for riding on subway trains,
and for speaking when they don't know what they mean to say.
They are brave for feeling, hoping, praying.

Brave girls don't always need luck,
but they know a dash of it won't hurt.
They aren't unafraid; they are not sure of themselves.

They cry more often than most,
and they live in paperback fantasies they created
in their elementary school days.

Brave girls try new things often,
but still fear change when it comes for them.
The know it is the way of the world, but they resist.

They love unconditionally, and that is the bravest thing of all.
They don't always know where they'll end up,
but they cross their fingers and wait.

The lost princess wanders,
gracefully wishing she could get back home.
But home is a place that has no borders,
she does not know where home is now.

The weight of reality pushes down on her,
the real life and the real world.
She cares for none of it,
prefers fairy dust and magic.

She will forever be six years old,
staying up past her bedtime to read about magic.
Being one thing forever, she thinks,
is far too taxing.

She asks, Why can't I dance with the fairies,
tiptoe through the looking-glass,
and to the land of always-winter.
I am all that I am not, and there is beauty in brokenness.

She has all but forgotten what that felt like,
those old days in glowing sunsets.
But once in a while her heart hums at forgotten magic,
and she remembers life through a kaleidoscope lens.

One day maybe she will fit in here,
but until that time she waits.
Hoping for a glimpse of what she used to want,
of all she used to hope for to come true.

I am the daughter of Artemis.
Hair flowing, arrow soaring, wind rushing.
Fierce, independent, unafraid.
I can do this thing called life.

I am the sister of Aphrodite.
Sweet kisses, lullabies, passion and envy.
You and me, forever together.
Love is all that matters.

I am the mother of Athena.
Warrior race, blood spilled, poised to ****.
Wisdom and wit, entwined.
My brains will help me overcome.

I am a goddess unchained.
My enemies should fear me,
my friends surround me,
my lover never leave me.

I will stand unwavering,
my battle cry piercing the air.
My tears will dry themselves.
I need no one.

No time anymore,
And not even enough energy to ask,
Why or how or where.

Once the envy of all,
Now known to none.
What has happened here?

Silence falls, shatters in
The space between our words,
Our conversations falter and break.

Torn between staying and leaving,
Wanting neither, wishing for both.
Looking the other way isn’t enough anymore.

I feel nothing, and everything
When you’re not here.