I am not a girl with bones formed in firmness. I am no steel rod, no monument of impregnable rock. I am the dandelion, trusting the wind to send me where I need go. The eternal child, curious, wanting to know the origin of every freckle on your face, every scar on your knee, every tear you’ve shed, every drop you’ve bled.

I run from the frosty breath of winter; I thrive in the wet heat of summer.

Sugared breath, whispered secrets, flushed cheeks.

Sunset painting you in golds and pinks, lighting up those brown eyes.

The only ones to ever really see me.

The revival of hope, brought on by the absence of certainty.

A beautiful perhaps.

These are the cornerstones of my spirit.

So say what you want for stability,
Tell me that one day I’ll realize, one day I’ll know: but I do know.

I know that now is not the time for grim mortality.

I know something greater than you because I have not just learned it from dusty books or grey bearded teachers or pompous proverb and preachery.

I live it.

I have traced the lines of apricot sunshine into the backs of my eyelids,

Memorized the satin slip of your fingertips on my spine,

Drunk the nectar of tropical dreams.

We run with the wind,

Our feet hitting the pavement in a deadbeat harmony.

We are unstoppable; things are the way they should be.

I want the world in my pocket,

I want my heart on my sleeve,

I want stars in my eyes,

I want everything to bloom.

I want to be forever yours– even if it is only in my summer night dream.