I read about her somewhere.  
                 ...
   About a lady in a white bralette.

Always bloomed alongside the flowers, with a scent, that made you look at her like she’s one of them. She came into a life with the waves. Crashed into you like the ocean onto the shore. Her touch was feverish and her steps were light.

Like the falling leaves she tiptoed around you, danced with the flames and got you lost in her madness. The kind of madness, that makes you walk through the forest in the middle of the night. The kind of madness, that erases all gravity and lifts you high up in the sky. The kind of madness, that makes you drop sanity out of the palm of your hands.

But her unexpected visit was just it. A visit. As soon as the wind blew she disappeared. And she was gone. Gone with the wind. The gravity reappeared and your feet we’re back on the ground. The sudden twist of events was often too much for most to handle. I live, but many have fallen deeper in the madness that existed only with her existence.

Their souls will forever be heated, but their eyes will never see again.

If I loved her?

My life is like a carousel.
This one I can't get off.
It's beautiful on the outside,
but it never ever stops.
The world is a blur now,
from spinning for years and years.
It's easy for people to say I'm fine,
when they haven't felt my tears.
Your life might be a roller coaster,
going up and down.
That's way more fun than being stuck
Spinning round and round

Magic happens when you don't give up
and ride the waves of light.
When you open your heart to see
as if eyes line the *****.
Magic happens when you
touch the moment in breath
and bestride the carousel of dreams.
Its what happens when one
recalls who they a
divine being with reservoir of gifts.
Hello magic I declare my birthright.

I don't even know what to say anymore
I've used the word word and words
too many times and I'm in
something of a rut
dominated by a state of nigh infinite flux
the problem is I'm aiming an empty gun
at yellow iron ducks, red horned devils
thinking the same few thoughts again, again,
again, stuck casting such dark spells
spinning the wheel, ever on the carousel
all i do is cast dark spells
all i do is tell true stories
as if they were tall tales
when i could scribe my life
as if it were fiction