she is a transient thief
fireworks for days, an exclamation point
every colour of the rainbow and then some
dipping her ring-clad toes in the waters of the otherworld
treading the underworld with perfect tears streaming
more girl than I could ever begin to compete with
a life lived in paradox
bright yellow laughter and tsunami tantrums
that leave you sore for days
bohemian eccentricity; a raucous aquarian
she is both lost and found
princess and changeling
an actress in every sense of the word
cassiopeia, like the freckles near her bellybutton
and her perfect breasts
a sylph, a siren, a Toriphile

she throws herself to the stage, beside the piano, sobbing. She stops for a moment, flicking her gaze upward through her dark eyelashes toward all the people watching. The audience. She continues to cry. They are real tears.