she awoke
like an aubade-
a song greeting the dawn.
her eyes blinked the morning dew away;
the sleep dissipating like fog rolling over hills and out of sight.
her body was full of stories,
of dreams-
she sang wordless lullabies in
amaranth and ivory.
it hurt her, i think,
to craft worlds from impetuous grins and
the lazy dip of cherry blossoms in spring.
her veins hurt from the
strain of harsh lights and panic attacks in public bathrooms,
her veins hurt from the monotony of school
and the dull, numb throbbing of a
barely there headache.
She would come home,
after a particularly long day
and stare at herself,
not recognizing who stared back.
sea foam on her lips and
glitter shimmering upon her cheeks,
she broke the world apart with her bare hands
and climbed inside.