There was a girl who’s favorite bedtime story was Rapunzel.
The mother's definite betrayal of her only daughter, casting her away into a lonely tower for a mere cabbage, fascinated her.
The witch intrigued her and the story was read countless times by a girl too young to understand. And yet, pain seemed to seep from her eyelashes
and whisper small words.
Her face radiated an ember light that was visibly diminishing.
The lines in her forehead and blue under her eyes held a pain no girl should know.
She’s leaving and she’s not coming back.
She’ll leave this world, and the fairy tale she so desperately clung to, hoping to lay down somewhere warm.
Where the blue above her cheekbones will drip off into a river so crystal it made her eyes sting a little.
Shes making a happy ending by making an ending.

you can only dwell on the past for so long.
those memories that keep your head above water,
only seemingly keep you breathing.
the foreboding presence is always in the back of your mind,
tingling on your fingertips and
trembling on your tongue.
sitting in bed for hours,
thinking about those times,
that one night,
with that one person.
those feelings dissipate eventually.
hopefully to be replaced by new,
wonderful ones,
sometime soon

we like hearing the sounds of our own voices
we like reassurance, and
to imagine that unlike what everyone might think,
we are the next best thing.
that's why this is so confusing.
these people are the next best thing
so why aren't they acting like it?
why aren't they acting like the brave,
insightful,
sometimes introspective,
people that i know they are.

Please fight for me.
Please.
I am literally begging for you to walk up to this room and make me stop crying.
This isn't poetry, Mom.
This isn't hard to understand.
This is your daughter begging you to please fight for me.
I don't remember the kisses goodnight or the
gentle hugs when I scraped my knee.
What I do remember is waiting in the closet,
scared and alone,
learning for the first time that the
only person who can really be
there for me, is me.
I waited
I listened for you.
I hoped for you.
Did you get that?
I said,
I hoped for you.