Trouble's the name,
Makin' up mischief is the game.

I wasn't the type of little girl
In perfect dresses
With big fancy print hand writing,
That was completely legible.

I wasn't the one
That boys had first crushes on.

No, I was the girl
Dreaming of fantasies,
Hoping for a someday,
Resisting the temptation
To run away.

I am the blood that pools in your mouth,
When you try not to gag from pain.
I've been there,
Done that.
Not again.

I'm the chalky taste of medication,
When you dry swallow it
And it gets stuck in your esphagus.
I'm the head ache after you try not to cry
After an hour long therapy session.

I'm the piece of gum
You chew to keep from having an anxiety attack,
But it's lost all flavor,
But you can't spit it out or you won't be able to breathe.

I'm an imagination
That goes a little too far,
I'm the not plausible,
The impossible,
The "I-want-to-save-the-world" complex.

But I'm also
The I-Will-Love-You-Unconditionally feeling,
And the smell of snow
Right before a blizzard,
And the feeling of knowing
Your fire place will burn and you have books to read
While the snow comes down.

I the burning of your hands
When you come in from the cold.

But you are
The relief when the headache from crying finally passes.
You are
The sweet taste of air
When the anxiety attack passes.

You are water
When dehydration gets the best of me.

You are the safety of a warm blanket,
When it feels like my world is caving in.

You are the familiar pulling sensation
On my heart
When I crave holding your hand.

You are the familiarity
Of autumn and laughter.

I may be the intensity of fire,
And the audacity of ice,
You are the temptation
Of watching the sky become a whole color
When the sun sets and fades into night.

You are the perfect balance
To my lack of a center of gravity.