forced into the spotlight before she ever learned to dance

pushed into ribbons and bows before she ever got a chance

cowgirl hats and hot pink skirts

sequins and sparkles and little lace up shoes

she was content before she was sick of her youth

then she grew up a little, and was poisoned

air of pollution or heart easily convinced

consumed by the lack of connection to what she really was

and then she transformed, like a butterfly becoming a caterpillar

walking backwards into a dark corner of mirrors

reflections she didn't recognize

the essence she now clutches

and the genuity she drinks up

the time she wishes to reverse

the longing falls in love with the past 

carrying wedding photos everywhere

has she divorced herself? has the summer wind that comes after the dawn become too little to revive whatever that five year winter froze?

she cannibalized her own ever-pale skin

the breakfast lunch and dinner she stopped eating

she doesn't know, and trying to dig past all the clutter is a premature death

but her hair is long now

and her skirts are short

her skin gets tan from the beaches and promised boardwalks

she blushes at text messages and nights out

but behind her pretty face

and her skinny ribcage

is the rush of lost time

running with the blood of her veins

in some ways she is a child being born all over again

even after sixteen years of thinking she had to melt herself and pour out the red wine into another glass

even after all those cloudy days and tears telling her to live another girls life

all the dresses and shoes she bought but never wore

the sun and the stars could still pierce the gloom

leaving little diamonds and pearls behind

A new obsession and a new love

not for something to stab her aura with

she types the loveletters at night to herself

and every morning the future enters her lungs

and her affair with possibility rises from slumber

leaving behind footprints of the kitten heels she bought for her first dance

like the stares she carelessly collects 

like the vanity covered in perfume bottles

and the butterflies she lets free to carry her through the days that pain her

days to love the angel wings she always had but never understood 

now the feathers bloom like the lilies outside of her 

like the future inside of her