Winter
The beginnings of frosted windows, breaths plumes of vapor against the grey skies, and numb, chapped lips. Constantly fleeing from the merciless winds that make me forget how to live. Ice crystals in my wet hair early in the morning at the bus stop as I watch you look away.
Days that begin too late and end too early.
Long nights I crave and pine for the warmth of your skin. Just for you to be close enough.

Tears
from the sky. Snow flakes plummeting and rushing into my reluctant face.
Tears overflowing messily and continuously from my eyes.
Today, my heart can only hold so much.

Superheroes
You are my superhero. The one with flames at your finger tips, thorns in your eyes, wine and knives in your words, and in the sound of your leaving.
Superheroes fight the battle of good versus evil. Beowulf swam for weeks in the sea, receiving torques of gold and honorary goblets of mead.
Good princes fight dragons with emerald scales and glowing eyes, and scorching breaths.
I am not good. Nor am I evil. Why do I feel like I am fighting to find you?

Why
the overwhelming desire to share the dull agenda of daily life?

Ordinary
Normal, usual, same, sane, accepted, understood, unafraid.
I never mean it when I say I am just an ordinary girl. I may look like one, but they are the lucky ones.