Those aqua eyes painted a picture of her, in his mind. Drowning waves and beach-time sunlight, pushing past him, with salty tears and broken hearts, he comforted her. As time brushed past her bare shoulders, he could see she was learning to spread her wings. With bright smiles, and joy projected in those aqua eyes, he’d been blind. She learned to spread her wings and fly, but they were bound, bound so tight, that it was physically hurting her. Two months later, her name was plastered everywhere, all over newspapers, in articles posted online, even written in big letters, upon posters in his own backyard, where his parents knelt and mourned, their friend’s golden daughter. Day after day, year after year since meeting, he said nothing about his affection.

The words replayed over and over again, as Jack Frost nibbled at his bare arms. ‘‘I was in love with you,’’ he whispered to the lonely headstone.

To the stars who listen and the dreams that are answers, his power filled the  throne room. The castle, the mountain. The world. Her world. It had no end and no beginning, until it was she, who came into his world. Into his life. Gathering unique flowers, and bringing forth the shinning sun, that shines the brightest when he winnows past. His short black hair gleamed like the raven's fathers, almost as if they shared the same pearly, black blood. His pale skin and blue eyes, so deep, and magical, the cauldron inside them, took you whole, and emerged you in waves of trouble and love. Violet fright-light, and embers of ash.

The deep tone of his voice held you close, closer, till he had his hands pressed against your cheeks, then he'd growl and purr once he had you. To the stars who listen, and the dreams that are answered. ''Hello Darling.''

He was like fire and ash. So similar, yet so different in the same rain. He lived in the moment. Then she did the same. He died in the moment. But then still she did the same. He tried to walk in the light, while she walked alongside the light from the moon above. He was the day. She was the day and the stars to him. Each of them knew each day mean't a new set of twenty four hours. Each day mean't anything was possible. he was like fire, she was like the ash. So similar, yet still the same in the beat of the silver storm. He lived in the moment. She did the same. He died in the moment, and still she repeated. He tried to walk in the light of the day, this time, they went together. Mixing brown and green created the olive. Their love gave a whole new meaning to the word day.

Green Crow, blue crow, black and Indigo. Royalty or god, giant or troublemaker? Reality or fantasy? Green or blue? Thunder and mischief? Thunder or mischief. The brother always chosen first, even though the thunder was the worst. The one who was always meant to rule, however, forced to kneel by the mighty steel of sapphire flames in the blue square.
The prince with the emerald feathers held the frosted cold of winters runes, as night-lock waves as dark as the crows chest, blew with the wind of earth. Looking down on a broken planet reminded him of one thing. The shattered glass of a once sharpened blade laid to slumber in the beat of each rising breath covered behind moonlight skin. Emerald green behind gold ribbons. Frost cold temperatures covering the base of the rusty, gold, scepter as it rains down black lighting from the clouds, upon the home destined for further black from the outcast ‘’god of mischief.’’

She sat alone today at lunch; I wandered why. But then I remembered. She doesn’t let others see her. They think she’s invisible. Everyone thinks the same, not me, I know better. She may want to be invisible, think she’s invisible, think I can’t see her? Probably, but the case is not so. They picked on her again, the Pops. The ones who believe their mean’t to rule…. the girls who make fat people hate themselves, till they developed an eating disorder. The girls who congratulate you, if you starved yourself, and lost five pounds three days ago…. truth is ‘‘fake’’ couldn’t be used to describe them better.

However, they don’t matter; the damage is still there. Achs, and broken spirits, broken bones, trying to make themselves perfect, and words that still hurt like hell, even years later. They don’t realize a tongue has no bones, but it’s already strong enough to break a heart, cause in reality, words cut deep, when do you everything for someone, and the words that come out of their mouths, is nothing but drowning, sorrow, and internal pain.

The blonde-haired girl stared violently at her reflection as it just stood there. Stood there, motionless, that reflecting, yet empty expression planted on her pale white face, the shame and sadness stormed straight through her, from the might she’d surely have baring through those baby blues… Although this day, that night, was different. That night, she hurt herself.

Her words.

She hurt herself with her own negative, knife shattering words. And although the hurt only lasted for a few seconds, she kept going. Try as she might to not seem so numb, cold, and alone, although none of which were helping her bare anything. She’d become so numb to pain, not even the sight of her own cold, wet tears altered her anymore. Not even the slight knock of someone at her door. She didn’t even care enough to clean herself from the tears sliding down her cheeks. She is broken, and she knows it. How she wishes she could be better, but being better doesn’t always mean you're truly okay. You could just be hiding it again, and no one would notice, cause your acting is so good.

Feeling sad and crying is the one emotion you know is real when you're battling depression, for it is the second emotion you aren’t hiding or faking with a smile. That and anger. The anger comes from someone tired of hiding their true, shining, smile.

The summer sun shined the brightest that day, and as it did, the roses danced, and the birds chirruped loudly. But as all this was happening, you couldn’t be bothered to notice. You’re eyes only saw one thing. The one thing you allowed them to see. Those vibrant eyes, the vibrant eyes you never knew you’d secretly been wishing for, since you were young. Singing loudly to country music, and eating ice cream, used to be your life. Now, as older as you were, was the time. The clock would not strike midnight on you. This was a fairytale, but without the twist at the end.
Your body felt so warm against him, the thought crossed your mind, and only for a second, you allowed that thought to enter. So warm you were, not even the strength of a winter blizzard, could chill your bones.