Her Spot Upon this Ledge

She's too course to paint the picture you wanted. To tell you something full of grace and beauty and soft whiteness. to tell you something of the sweet sort of ache she feels inside. She wanted to describe the colors she ached for. the feelings.

she wanted there beauty in pain. the purest kind. trembling stars and tears od diamonds. she wanted to talk of love and hearts and beating together again. of swans and feathers and lightness.

she's too mean now. too jaded. too rough. Too black and hard and she wants to be cutting again.

But she wants to tell you of the word ethereal. of glitter. of soft winds. of the feeling of lace and satin against bare skin. she wants to tell you about somethign singular and wonderful. something worth falling in love with.

But she can't. She doesn't have it inside her anymore. and maybe that's the scariest part of all.