Early-dusk gray sky over willow wisps floating in damp air, electricity ebbs and flows just inches before the toes, playfully dancing around the seductive possibility of sweet storms. I am in the rose garden, caught between roses, caught between worlds; is this truly Mine? Or am I lost amidst the silk and satin, caught in an unseen, still rift? Am I a girl, a flower, a petal? Perhaps a blade of grass; a shard of soft bark. Clovers tickle my feet temptingly, and I lie down in them. Roses tower on either side of my head and the sky stretches before me. Everything is soft and warm and filtered gray and blue and purple. I, a beauty worth beholding in my world, am nothing in this World of Roses, and I wilt beside them.
((23 Sept 2014, found in a lost journal from high school))