I cannot stand beneath the sun
And still be a beacon of light.

itty:

apollo jumps into bed, we lick our wounds and move on. 

If I am a flower, then I am the kind that has starved through summer’s heat, weathered the shroud of winter’s frost, and survived poisoned soil in the birth of spring. I am an unkempt hedge that grows wildly, sometimes hopelessly in a yard filled with desperation.

It was the first time in a long time that she felt corporeal. If a tree exists in a forest but no one ever witnesses it grow or breathe, did it ever really exist? This was a thought she had been pondering for some time but in his presence she suddenly didn’t identify as much with that tree.

the light of day gives way to your fears, the night is your sanctuary and you get so lost going back and forth between the two. you just want to see things as clearly as you do when its dark but the glare comes up from car windshields and snow and it changes how you viewed everything. and you cannot decipher which truth is honest or right.

part one: 

It starts with a frog in princes clothing who awoke me one night with a tap at my window. He spellbound me the summer I was so small that I could fit into a thimble. I was captivated then held captive by a bounty of promises, being fed misleading dreams and an imaginary reality. 

By fall patience gave way to persistence. I was encapsulated within the walls of my own love and devotion. A girl under glass, voices from the outside came in muffled and not comprehendible. My happiness was a forgery that hollowed my insides and left me brittle and hungry. My dedication working me nearly to death despite still being owed what I had already earned. I continued to yearn and sought out every sliver of hope and savored the pain as they splintered and poisoned beneath my skin.

By winter persistence gave way to desperation and I was finally poisoned by the touch of his skin. He convinced me that it was a cure to end my lifelong legacy of tremendous suffering. This was the easy way out. So I let his venom sedate me and away I went, gone from my life faster than I had come. 

And by spring desperation gave way to resentment. I could not impose that a toad stick to only one fly and expect him to be satiated for the rest of his life. And he could not imprison me and smother me and shoot down my every chance to succeed  and expect me to still nurture him. Drown a girl in dishwater and she’ll never want to clean. Tie her arms behind her back and she won’t be able to. He did both. 

So after the feast I quietly packed my things and left with the help of a swimmer and a drifter. I could feel his tongue reaching for my throat but I narrowly escaped its grasp. My dear fish dragged me to safety  while my butterfly nursed the wounds and showed me once more that beauty exists deep in the trauma of our misfortunes.