There was a girl who’s favorite bedtime story was Rapunzel.
The mother's definite betrayal of her only daughter, casting her away into a lonely tower for a mere cabbage, fascinated her.
The witch intrigued her and the story was read countless times by a girl too young to understand. And yet, pain seemed to seep from her eyelashes
and whisper small words.
Her face radiated an ember light that was visibly diminishing.
The lines in her forehead and blue under her eyes held a pain no girl should know.
She’s leaving and she’s not coming back.
She’ll leave this world, and the fairy tale she so desperately clung to, hoping to lay down somewhere warm.
Where the blue above her cheekbones will drip off into a river so crystal it made her eyes sting a little.
Shes making a happy ending by making an ending.