She comes together in pieces. That’s how she falls apart, too. She keeps gaining ground and then losing grip at all the things she’s been trying to do.
Just when the World seems to smile and gentle tuck back her hair the grief and the weight fall back into her skull and she spirals into despair.
She’s floating down river banks with a smile so wide her face can’t hold the happy. She’s flying up high and finally part of her favorite Sky.
She tripped into a memory that kicks at the demons she has chained. She’s fighting of wolves and bears that foam with all of their names.
There isn’t a place to hold the grief. There isn’t a well deep enough to drown out their screams. Some nights she’s lit up with silvery Moon; some nights she’s shadowed and twisted trying to claw at the empty room.
Tonight the chained are lapping up her grief and her pain. They are stretching their legs and enjoying their frolic. She isn’t afraid anymore as she lets the hounds loose. She just wishes she was able to sell them, lose them, untie the noose.