Location never really changed Winter for her;
it was always just teardrops and dry skin

she wanted to believe life was beautiful,
but the bumps on her fingertips speak differently, fluid without form
and form without function.

She could never quite remember
why the two were paired or where it had been taught,
only that it should be so
and that never sat well with her

Within this epiphany,
the dandelions fly around her
forcing the wind to knock her back
She can touch them, reach out and find a path within them
and maybe fall a bit more
into their spell.

She is desperate and alone
and safe in a place where no one will find her.
This is only what she has done
with how the stage was set upon her arrival, she thinks.

But it changes,
it molds with every step
Every part seemingly becoming an extension of the past,
and this bothers her most.

Under the wrong lighting
it seems an endless line of mistakes.
But, sometimes under the shade of eyelashes she sees something else.

Every moment counts.
Every bit of wind that flashes,
every bit of noise in her eyes
counts as a way out.
But she cannot fathom the messages
when there is so much irony on her
tongue.

01/20/2010

Author's Note: I do adore working with her... ;o)

Posted on 01/20/2010
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