you guided my guilt down my shoulders into my
fingertips,
and i felt the worry wash my hands clean as you
spoke.

i am ever so foolish, the little girl who fell for the magical
stories,
of daddy building castles and fighting fire breathing
dragons,
the ones that held false images and beautiful
love.
the stories i gulped up at the age of five,
withheld the aches and ordinary routines of
adulthood.

yet, those misguided tales has filled my eyes once
again.

i haven't grown up.