She. Is awkward like broken English. Good intentions but can't hold a conversation from start to finish. She speaks in soliloquies. And because of this I see her in me. Daughter. Sweet child. Remember that your laugh - is like waking up from a beautiful dream. You are a memory. Of fireworks and flash photography. Reminding us that life. Can. Be. Wonderful.
But. Only if you step outside that box. Comforting others is impossible behind a door that is locked. She. Hold cosmos behind her eyes. I just know it. An intergalactic mind. She just doesn't show it.
To my daughter.
I love you.