Dance in the dawning sun light
Feel the cool grass blades between bare toes
Today, you are free

There has indeed always been a sense of magic in the old house. Especially at dusk, as the setting sun steeps the estate in golden hues. The land was wild and luscious, seemingly unmaintained, embellished with wild chamomile and daisies. History wrote itself into every wall, every blade of dense southern grass, every calcified window and crackling chip of paint held, each in its right, a weightiness, an undeniable depth of bygone years. Martha stood in the old servants kitchen and sipped her coffee long and thoughtfully. The chairs weathered by time and countless night family sat on those cushions. Laughter still echoed in the rooms, ricocheting  off picture frames and pinging off Marthas near deaf ear-drums. She felt the years in the walls, she felt the years in her bones. How she would miss this home.

She's not the damsel.

She's the dragon.

A relationship is doomed
When just staying mad at each other is easier than saying
"I'm sorry.'

He abused himself
So of course he could abuse me

I cannot deny,
The man could materialize anything I wished for.
A passing fancy, an eye catching item could and did appear whenever in his finacial power to do so.
I could have anything...
I knew it too.
But in the end all that fluff was to compensate for his lack of emotional richness.
The lack of any character depth or owning a strong self-identity.
I was never hungry with the man.
My belly was always full.
But my heart was always empty.