I remember calling for her
Hoping she would hear my screams over the cries of the angry mob
And for a second she stopped
As if she heard me and wanted to turn around but couldn't bring herself to do it
So instead she just glanced at the heavens as if she was praying
Reaching out in attempt to relinquish the pain that corrupted her soul
Before walking away never to be seen by my eyes again
I later heard rumors that she had died
That the pain was too much for her fragile heart
And on that night she shot herself as she laid in my old bed

she had a poem where her soul was suppose to be and the pupils of her eyes had been carved out from the black void before the beginning of time
she knew more than any man or woman or god and only ever lost at anything when playing checkers and
tic-tac-toe with children
there was an intricate and gentle song that hummed in the depths of her heart and her blood flood with the slow ease of the last drop of honey from a jar
an unending kindess flowed from her gaze and she was continuously looking for those in the most need
she existed within the fabric of dreams and the horizon of eternity
and the beauty of love was an endless fairytale tattooed along
the curves of her spine
she has walked quietly through your dreams and gathered all the tears of heartache and grief you have ever shed and turned them into stars and moons and wishes of good tidings
she is there everytime you fall in love and and everytime your heartbreaks and it is with strands of her hair that she stiches the broken pieces back together and whispers sweet words of hope to chase away the feelings of despair
and you know her by
a name you will never speak in
a language you will never know
and when dreaming
you can always hear
your heart reading
her poem to your soul

She is a dream stuck between
a first kiss and a dying wish
an eternity trapped in a moment
and a forever lost long ago
the dried bones of an angels spine
and the dust from a dead humming birds wing
the hidden fire in a dragons belly
and the color of a mermaids breath
the first hairs of a paint brush
and the last drop of paint
the thread that stitches beauty to a heart
and the dull edge that cuts love apart
the keeper of the universes secrets
and the narrator that spills the truth at the end
the blood flowing through life
and the wind that warns of death
the end of time
and the begining of nothing and nowhere
she is and she isn't
and every star and every leaf
knows her by name
and yesterday and tomorrow
live in the space between her eyes
and today is just a dream
she continuously spins
on the end of her fingertips