she
has shape-shifted
and switched sides many times,
kind of similar to the way water bursts
when placed into the tiniest of containers.
and she
has learned
because the ounces of liquid once lost
came back to haunt her.
still, she hears their voices in her nightmares:
"you're soon to evaporate,
water never really does change".
she
has shivered.
she has spent time in solitary, all those years
staring out to the world that laughed at her tears,
droplets of pure water mixed with ichor,
of blood mixed with sweet, sweet liquor.

but you
have started
to discover the wonders this world holds,
the secrets the water covered
(just like her, she always hid)
oh. please. no.
so you
must never give in
to the pull that turned me into water in the first place
you must remain strong,
a hurricane and a glass of lemonade
cannot compare to honey
mixed in with all of your thoughts.
because you
have been made
with the same razor edges your baby blanket was woven out of
and that is
surely
the most memorable thing about you.