Hopeful

She is the pebble, perfected

Through streams of inundation

One after the other- that scraped

Her insides as much as her outsides.

She is the majestic ring of the eclipse

Luminescence ever-present- yet,

Ever-spreading darkness in her heart.

She is the sand of the hand- fleeting-

Rough to the hand, smoothly flows through.

She sits with her head bowed, with the

Noise of a thousand worlds in her head

Dragging a finger on the ground into 

Surreal shapes- with a nail unevenly bitten

She hides herself in her throng of black

They hiss at her, and she silently counts days

When she has heard her talk to herself-

Of love, of brokenness, of life.

And in the fire of her aura that she lights

Around her- she throws a little piece

Of herself everyday, to enrage the flames.

If you ever so stand- close to the magnificent 

Light, know you are but fortunate.

Hold on to her. She'll hold onto you.

For is love nothing but a torturous flame-

Attractive at first, but hurtful the very next?

She remembers you.

She deserves you.

She wants you.

Trust me.