i'm not sure how to
go about writing
This piece.

i can tell you this.
it's about a girl.
one you should have known.
one that was
Almost Real.

i never like to look at her
(or photographs of her)
don't let me let you think
that she isn't
*******
beautiful.

she is.

it's just that.
that isn't why i Almost Love
an Almost Real girl.
she writes to me.
about her lover, and her art.
and her sadness.
and how the world just isn't fair.

and i do (love her).
and it isn't (fair).

her art is part of why i love her, though.
if my eyes are always a window
into my mother's soul
then her Art
is the window to mine.

she draws (mostly)
girls (mostly)
and their eyes are cast out
because she knows
there are things she sees
that she doesn't want to.

and they have no voices.
because hers is so soft.
and it makes me want to Scream!

"i could love you!
my fire would feed on yours!"

but my voice
is also soft.
and we all have our cages.

i don't think i'll ever tell her.