She's picking daisies now
            and putting them in her hair.

Surrounded by fantastic neon green trees.

            And this is where she dwells.

           And this is where she cries.

He brings her to the edge, covered in white- maybe just ashen

with blood-stained sheets
                        
                        she wears over her face.

              She's everywhere and nowhere at all.

All day
         she dreams about fireflies and catches them
and swallows them down.



                            And then there is no more light.