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When I was a small child, I always wanted to hide so the bad things couldn't happen.

As a pre-teen, I did my writing and sketches hiding under a bridge, storing my notebook in the bricks, the pages covered in beautiful drawings and haunting eloquence.

The teen years brought limited, always limited safety and awareness. I saw the colors of a spectrum I hadn't known existed, but they didn't see me.

A young woman, with barbed wire inside, emerged. They saw me with their hungry eyes and deliberate needs. Dusky walls withheld their embraces and nothing broke the fall.

His eyes had their own light behind them and they looked to me for everything. And he saw me and loved me anyhow.

I hid as many bad things as I could, so he could be a small child.

I collected the notebooks he filled in the open air and we walked on top of the bridges. I imagined a home and I put blinders on to narrow my focus on the career that kept him sheltered and limited my risk.

I pulled the barbed wire out and burnt it until it was soft to the touch. I tore the walls down with crimson streaks from my hands.

The light of this new world is blinding, but I don't cover my eyes. The ground feels soft and warm, but the waves draw me in, hiding the jagged edges of the rocks beneath.

Now, I would throw this tiara if I could. I would sit by the fire and make it always night, though there is nothing to cover my shoulders. I would do this, but for the light behind his eyes that see me and the dream that he can swim past the rocks.

Unseen, with a painted on smile in a pretty dress, inside I'm just looking for a log to add to that fire.






2 comments:

  1. What beautiful metaphor and imagery. ...

  1. You should write more. A lot more. This, as are you, was amazing.

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