a letter to the girl I was when the world was unwritten

I have seen the skin in between your fingers as it stretches to keep up with you

I have watched the bruised crescent moons move as eyelids flutter in recognition of fireflies

you were never gentle with yourself

long sleeves and eyeliner

yet there's something romantic about the way your hair is always down and your eyes are always raw

there is something soft about pain

it wasn't always so sharp

morbid and mild

we strive towards solitude

kissing is crude and killing is so much closer to compassion

releasing someone from fraying string

painting your face

a mask displays

nothing but distaste

for things you secretly find lovely

silk and rose petals

it's okay to slip into your softer side

I understand the need to hide

but wash off your war paint

and look at the tangled bits

without bared teeth