I knew this girl once. Her heart willowy and fickle. Her mind was easily ensnared in the twists and turns of everyone’s words. She let shards linger and wedge their way into her skin. She feigned her non-nonchalance at the hurt that she had let seep in.
I know this woman, now. She is wild and unfettered. Her heart is willowy and scarred. Her mind is clear. Better.
Dwelling on the darkness, filling holes with secrets and destruction left her long ago. She found she preferred to enjoy her heart alone. Red wine tastes even deeper on her lips when her mind isn’t a war zone.
To feel the early morning mist take pleasure in resting on her skin, to wake up feeling whole, all of the things the girl could never really know– The woman and the girl are strangers. They have never met. Their paths may have crossed, but neither took notice of the other. Neither one knows the name of the other. They cannot relate.
How can that girl not know her self-worth? How can she not feel whole when she is alone?
How can that woman be so strong, so free?
How can both of these people have ever been me?