She is seventeen

She heard his wish - the boy who wished upon her at the balcony. She heard his worries. About how he is worried of not passing his examination, about the way his parents treat him and about the way his heart never settles since the day he left his significant other.
                             "Was it my fault?"
He asked as he buried his head in his palms and stare at the falling stars on that one lucky night. A moment there he felt like the star answered him. A moment there he felt the star is looking at him in hopes he feels the magical feeling she is feeling now that she is seventeen. The magical feeling she felt and how she is too naive that she fell at first sight on the boy who told him his worries. She fell to the earth of her feelings.

She is seventeen.

Was it really hope? Did she really fell in love with hope? Or was it still the boy on that balcony? She felt the presence of faith and she knew faith was always right. By the time she really fell head over heels on hope, faith brought a friend.
     Trust.
Was she strong enough to trust?
Was she strong enough to have faith in her hopes.
                                   Yet she still has hopes on waking up the next day with faith by her side and trust in her heart.
        So, how does it feels to really felt right?
                         How does it feels to have the feelings at the right places?

She is seventeen.

"Do I really want to stay like this forever?" She asked herself.
               To have no worries and be a child at heart and out. To escape the reality when she really need reality to escape the magical feelings.
Did she really took Peterpan's hand and flew to Neverland and never came back?
                                     Did the sleeping pills worked?
When the clock strikes 6, and the morning came, her mom at her door knocks on thrice.
                                "Jane, wake up." With a voice as soft as the feelings of her comforters that surrounds her body.
                                                           ­             "In a minute."
She took his hand and flew to Neverland but once she saw the mermaids in Mermaid Lagoon, she swam and fell in love with water. She sat on a rock and hold Peter's hand and again she felt those magical feelings again. She kissed Peter's cheek and told him,
                                                            ­   "I need to escape this magical feelings."
And so she woke up on her bed.

She is seventeen.

Forgiving was hard.
           Forgetting was harder.
Yet, those words seems so easy for her now.
                                              The magical feelings that has long gone, made it harder.
She swam through life and sometimes she would choke on the water and stop. But she knows the ocean is big and she never stopped swimming. She met the dolphins and fishes, she even met a few big waves. But she knows there will be a boat right behind her to save her when she's drowning.
        Sometimes she felt it is stupid for her to not sculpt her life before doing anything but she loves the water ever since the Mermaid Lagoon so she continues what she loves. Sometimes she feels someone looking upon her like the boy at the balcony who told her his worries. She felt the pixie dust who tried to help her bit by bit; trying to let her fly and skip the horrendous waves.
                                                          ­Sometimes she used it
                                                              ­      Sometimes she told him no and she swam again.

She is seventeen.

Yet she danced on Jupiter, hopped on the rings of Saturn, fell in love at first sight, went to Neverland, met the mermaids, her first love was someone who never want to grow up, and she swam the oceans. *Was she still a beautiful aurora?

I was in love with anatomy
the symmetry of my body
poised for flight,
the heights it would take
over parents, lovers, a keen
riding over truth and detail.
I thought growing up would be
this rising from everything
old and earthly,
not these faltering steps out the door
every day, then back again.

you see, IT'S ABOUT KILLING PEOPLE,
about THE RIGHTEOUS & THE WICKED,
THE UNDIVIDED SELF.

ARE YOU THE ONE I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR?
here, WHERE TWO BODIES LIE,  I COULD STAY HERE FOREVER.
on THE LAST DAY WE EVER CLOSE OUR EYES,
the HARBOUR LIGHTS will be in GRAYSCALE.

MY MISTAKE, I BELIEVE IN SYMPATHY.
sing me A LULLABY FOR THE LONELY,
and we'll HEAD FOR THE COUNTRY.

you set off these LITTLE EARTHQUAKES in me.
you're in the PASSENGER SEAT, telling me to
HOLD ON TIGHTLY, LET GO LIGHTLY.
POLARIS can't guide us anymore.

i am the BLACK CROW KING, you are OFF THE MAP.
GRIEF CAME RIDING through our souls, darling,
WHAT DO YOU GO HOME TO? GET OUT.
there's BLOOD ON  THE LEAVES,
FROM THE EDGE OF THE DEEP GREEN SEA.

WITH YOUR GREATEST FEARS REALIZED, YOU WILL NEVER BE COMFORTED.

WHY ARE YOU LOOKING GRAVE?
THE EARTH DIED SCREAMING.

darkness signals the
retreat into
the shell
of sea-side
sounds.
they whisper
innermost thoughts
of blindness and
profound seconds
of suspended
fallen flowers.

the recluse
can see more
in the deepest night
than the lightest
day.

thoughts circle with
the stars, as the
atrophy of apathy
begins
and the menagerie of
faltering frowns
follows.