Queenie7

“My skin has turned to porcelain, to ivory, to steel.” ― George R.R. Martin "You have such pale skin... you look like a little china doll". I imagine I did look like a little doll when I was younger. I donned the pink dresses my mother had made and bought. I let her brush my curly hair, allowed her to set it just right. If I was a good little girl, she let me try some of her ruby red lip stick. I did not mind the pink dresses or the makeup. I grew up with fairytales of pretty princesses and dashing knights, of ferocious dragons and ugly witches. Princesses wore make up and dresses. Princesses got their knight in shining

I imagine myself walking along a path by the sea. The waves crash and churn below me as I balance myself on the edge. Nimble as a cat, I walk along the wall, feeling the cool rush of the ocean against my legs. The sun set long ago, the world is beginning to hush. There is no moon to guide me tonight. Pausing, I sit myself down to face the calming seas. The waves, once rough and unforgiving, smooth out into a gentle lull. With no light around, and no noise to distract, I watch; I observe. The vastness the sky above and the sea ahead unsettle me. There are some that say we originated from the sky, others from the sea. Our bones are made of par

Waiting for your text; wasted day.

Just you and me. And her.

Of Reflection and Hope. My stomach feels empty, but I have eaten. It's the butterflies again. There are times where I do hold them in my (rib)cage lovingly. Other times, I want to set them free without a second thought; never to see them again. My heart aches a bit too. It feels heavy and tight. You'll probably be the last thing I think about tonight (again). I know this is a bad thing. Because once, it was a good feeling. A happy one. Now it just feels like weights are hanging from my rib cage; dragging me to the ground. I want to forget your face. Your eyes. Your smile. But by doing that, I'd forget the memories too. Of bette