She was striking

Not in the way she looked

But in the way she was

Fierce rain that poured too hard

 

Things breathed inside her head

Wishes, dreams, fears, observations

Sometimes so loud,

She couldn’t speak

Silence vibrated across her skin

 

She trotted out the stars

Carefully each night

And silver dust

Lingered on her skin

A day’s battle paint

 

When she danced

The world stopped

To watch

And wonder

How so much life existed in one being

Why the room didn’t tip over

And pour out

 

She was the climax of every adventure

Teetering

As a fledgling on a branch

Caught between flying

And falling

Doubt and hope painted clouds around her

 

She made a habit of solitude

And entertained nostalgia like an old friend

 

She imagined everything unsaid

By the screeching flocks of people,

And wrote her own stories

To remedy lonliness

Almost

 

But most of all

She liked to sit

On the moon’s golden crescent

Feet dangling,

Stirring up the night