She used to run
wild, laughing, unafraid
bare feet skimming the edge of the world.
She believed in things I have long abandoned:
magic, forever, the kindness of strangers.
I do not know when I lost her.
She was with me once,
when the sun was warm on my face,
when love was something I held
instead of something I mourned.
But time is a quiet thief,
and I let her slip away,
piece by piece,
until she...
