thebalefulprimal

            damaging your insides is a drug                     of both young and old:      why do we lust after what hurts most?               whether it's age old love or good old fashioned hatred                              what makes us chase that which we cannot have            the infamously unattainable,                  when all it will do in the end is end us?                      the "grass is greener" syndrome is contagious                        to all ages           and it breeds better than rabbits in the spring,                  as predictable as lemmings near a cliff:                                  spend your ste

in the furthest reaches, 'neath graying limbs and high walls you could run and discover, where no key fit, a door to another hall ... age, she knew none, love, she was not giving, laughter she gave, always forgiving. nimble like water, friendly to most but blink and she was gone swifter than a kite on the coast. taller than trees, ageless and old blushing, blooming, climbing she never knew the winter's cold she hid her home in the land between the beech trees and the graying walls and she came and went whenever she pleased. beware her thorns, behold her beauty, when she offers you friendship, take it and swear by it, absolutely. she know

         she is a goddess incarnate,                 ash hair swept in a curving braid        encasing the roots of her ivory horns             like a queen's crown.                she is nobler than the high faeries                  she grew with;     gilded and crystallized, amber eyes         that poach your soul from its tomb -                        but she is kind:           the doves and wind cloak her with love         blossoms follow her gentle steps                     'til the ends of the earth,                      and further.      pale fingers nurture her home        the life that breathes around her,          ea