A dark mist settled on her lips,
and as soon as she opened her mouth,
the mist morphed into a magical shade of pink;
warmed by her angel-breath,
like falling frost in the eye, it froze her,
and everything around her went still...
She spoke sweet words of sorries and plays,
hoping to born a new day -
with new tales
and new times;
It was only then she realized,
the darkness remained,
no one heard her,
& that all this time,
she only chose to view a different shade,
from behind the curtains of a moth's wing,
posing as a rustic butterfly.
She wouldn't let the words roam now;
she would reel them back in -
like a hurt fish, like a dead wish,
she would tie them up like a bow,
and throw them in the trash,
along with Christmas Eve and the New Year
that she had imagined.
She would leave that photo behind,
and those carved things
that always looked nice on her shelf.
She finally knew
that it was time to go.