in my fairytale that appears when the sky loses the sun,
the cursive words written were with a silver quill dipped in moondust.
the accounts of my journey to righteous freedom
were engraved amongst the stars on a dark night where obscurity
lingered even in places where flames were lit.
set in the cosmos where children slept in trees
and adults smelt like the salty sea;
where pretty boys could grasp the light found between snowflakes
and flashes from girls were because of bombs chewed in their mouths;
where monsters kissed the sinless lips of innocence,
fairies were created from a single emotion of a human,
and everyone loved the first prince who lightly held their waist.

I live here,
I always have.
and I think that
for evermore will become my blood as I lay among
the wild grassy plains just beyond the barrier of the forest.

in my fairytale found in between the alignment of planets,
the phrases stains the sky when perused and
the waters reflect a fantasy that shows
sleepy children who ruffle green leaves the illustrations of my life.
you will see all that is past.
adventures trapped in a memory.
catch a glimpse of my youth clinging onto my skin.
look into daring eyes that flicker with uncertainty.
listen to songs honeyed with sweetness.
witches may snicker at my innocent self
and creatures of the northern winds could howl at my ignorance
but I will remain timeless in rocky streams, pools of puddles,
wide empty lakes, and the vast ocean that takes the horizon.

they hold
my story,
my words,
my life.
they hold me by sealing my soul's existence in those rough waters.

but if my life was a blissful fairytale,
why are the shades of my tale only in darkness and not light?
if I gaze into the sky during a time when the sun shines,
the body of the sky is made of the brilliance of blue,
or perhaps a stormy gray,
and sometimes, completely clouded in white.
before my story, when the sun begins to fall from its place,
I see the vivid colors of
purple, orange and yellow
painting the waters
before becoming a shadowy hue of blue? of me?
why am I not made of a beauty like that?
why am I made from darkness?
I wonder,
what were the stories written before me in the sky?
how is my story told by those in trees?
why is it that my story darkens the world?

although I have overcome obstacles to my dream,
fought my demons who caused so much pain
and finally lived my perfect happy ending...
perhaps,
I am not the fairytale that I was told.