And there are things she doesn't tell you. Like how she wants to be a singer, but doesn't think she can. And how she doesn't like to sleep alone. And how she doesn't wear a jacket so she can pretend it isn't cold. And how she's afraid to say goodbye.
She wishes that you knew.
She loves the feel of empty and the taste of words as they flow onto a page and how she sometimes sees you smile from the corner of her eye.
You have a beautiful smile.
In the mornings she craves completion and in the evenings a simple dream. Eyes close, but there is no slumber. She reminds herself to live in the moment, breathe in morning and the freshness of new day. Possibility. Wonder.
She's only seventeen.
She needs to learn to be a child again.
