Walking into the ballroom, she knew everyone was staring at her. Instead of trying to hide, like she had been for the past 6 months, she decided to hold her head up high. Reaching up and pulling on a pin holding her hair up in a bun, her golden curls came tumbling down, and the crowd gasped in unison. If she was to become the next queen of Aldoneva, she was going to do it her way. Of course, she was terrified, but she couldn’t let them know that. Them being the councilmen of course, desperately waiting to see her fail. Despite the fact she was legally to be the first publicly voted monarch of her country, they still believed those who ruled should be of royal blood. She was simply a girl from the society where the rich stay rich and the poor stay poor. She didn’t mean to start a revolution, she just believed that it shouldn't matter where you were born, everyone deserved a chance. She needed to show young people that they could do whatever they wanted to do, even become queen, and she was ready for her next adventure.

My lips crinkle up in the half moon laugh of joy. Tears bleed down my checks and still nothing can keep me from moving. Running through the world. From place to place never resting long enough to be caught. Everyday it is the same: wake, laugh, cry, run, rest, sleep, repeat. Until one day I stop and I look back- back at all the memories that make me, me. And those sea salt raindrops well up and over the rim of my eyes tumbling down in desire for those good ol’ days. But still as the longingness blooms deep in my soul my mouth quirks up in the trace of a crescent and it grows wider, Soon the white pearls shine as an animal bubbles up. Is it a laugh or a sob? Does it matter? Whatever it is I’m done running.

She initiated the hug, walking over to him and lovingly wrapping her arms around him. He felt shaken, but in the best way possible. It was as if a cage of impatient butterflies sat at the bottom of his stomach, the cage door shaking every so often from their restlessness. Suddenly, the lock broke, the door swung open, and the butterflies flew upwards and weaved through his ribcage, some even taking laps around his lungs, until he became out of breath. The flutter of their wings brushed against his heart, causing it to beat faster and a blush to appear on his face. And so, he placed his cheek upon her soft hair with a genuine smile. 

The head surgeon is standing in hesitation over his patient.

The first thought to enter his mind was he’s never seen such a damaged heart.

There were shards of glass impaling her heart.

As he looked closer at the heart’s smaller details, he noticed past stitches.

He came to the conclusion that no matter how many stitches there were

It could never be the same.

No matter how many times the heart was put back together,

Someone new would come and destroy it.

That was her last surgery.

She eventually stopped letting her heart get stabbed.

She built up a wall and was determined to never let anyone in again,

For she might have been put back together but she was tired of being heartbroken

And her damaged heart would never forget why

She was put on the operating table so many times.

The warmth you gave off is what saved me. He said I am naive and don’t know what love is. Andrew is wrong, I do know what love is and how it feels. Living with optimism that the next day will be better.  Obsessing over when I get to see you again, counting down the minutes before turning joyful. Victory which happened when you told me that you liked me. Even though, that wasn't the answer I got when I told you I loved you. It wasn’t the point. 

 Your breathing is spasmodic and I know things changed. Thinking your smile can be enough to keep me believing the lies you told. I am a dumb girl that wouldn’t notice your distance. Should I be mad that you are deserting me? A person who would go to the extent of hanging off a cross like the King of Jews. 

Releasing me from your strong but faltering arms, our smiles dim. I used to compare your smile to the sun, now it is being covered by anxiety. "I'm sorry, love." You call me that, it makes me wonder if you are even capable of that emotion.  

icicles grow and freeze and threaten to impale, all while catching rays of blinding sun.

winds bite at exposed skin, leaving it red and raw. even when you tug your hat down to cover your ears, the sting remains.

but winter will always be winter. and with blizzards come mugs of hot chocolate and oversized sweaters–it’s a bit easier to pretend you are warm.

pretending is a slippery slope, though. it convinces you to wander into the storm, underdressed and underprepared.

until the chill has seeped into your bones and turned you blue. and there is only one way to stop the spread to every corner of your body.

take a deep breath. one stroke, quick and clean to save yourself. 

and next time, be wary of the cold. 

all it brings is frostbite.

Your mind is powerful. It can free you from whirlwinds or trap you in a corner. Your mind is the rock that keeps you on earth, from flying away into the infinite sky, like a balloon slipping from fingers; or from falling deep into the admiral ocean, muted from the world. But sometimes your safe house is the trap. Why not fly off to walk on clouds and gaze at stars, seeing your toes twinkle with every soul? Why not dive into  deep sea and sink, watching the sky’s light disappear? Why not just float away and slowly swing in the sky, feeling the wind dance away? Humming in the meadows with little red birds and watching the lavenders sway in the fields, follow that petal from your aunt’s dead rose, in that glass vase from seventeen years ago, down the gentle stream to a roaring cascade. Down you go, and then you float. Maybe you’ll get lost. Maybe you’ll forget. But when you find your way back, sitting by your desk, staring at these words, you’ll wish that you were still floating away.

They had walked in with raging hearts and fiery speech. Their eyes were burning with a mixture of both tears and a strong sense of determination. But now they stood, looking down at the one in charge, numb. A simple “No”. That was all he would grant them. A heavy, stifling silence fell over them as his crude justifications vaporized and, weak as they were, became part of the white noise. Their impassioned words had met deaf ears, and now they finally understood. The salt water welling in their eyes was just a few drops in an ocean to the one in charge. To him, their tragedy was only something to wait out. It was something that would be eroded into nothing with a little help from time. In an instant, all the noise and nonsense of it came rushing back to them. A solitary sob broke through the irrelevant din that pervaded the room. They all reached out to one another, hands grasping shoulders and hushed words of comfort rising like smoke after a fire. He had heard them, but would not help them. They knew now that they had to set everything aflame to truly get his attention.

 Do you ever wonder about the colors of the rainbow? Red is love, when you have your first kiss and you feel sparks of electricity flowing through your veins. Yellow is when you stuff birthday cake in your mouth and try to express your joy by smiling. Orange is the outcome of the electricity flowing through your body(red) and birthday cake(yellow). Excitement! Blue is when it starts raining on your beach party. When red and blue mix, it creates purple, hope. It’s when you’re training and practicing for a soccer game. There are obstacles like losing, but hope is what keeps you moving in the direction of winning. Green is spring, between winter(blue) like the color of frozen ice caps on a lake and summer(yellow) like beautiful daffodils. Spring marks a new beginning, a fresh slate on which anything can be drawn. Lastly, there is clear, which reflects all the colors of the prism. You can't always see them through the prism because it has to be at a certain angle. With all the races in the world, it reminds me of the colors of humanity.

 The power of a song

I was walking down the street, my phone on shuffle, when the fast-paced song, Glorious comes on. “Nice!” I say while trying to count how many times I listened to it this week.  I suddenly see Macklemore and Skylar Grey walking next to me singing along. They couldn’t hear it because I was wearing earbuds, yet knew I was listening to their song.  I felt a strange sort of calm listening to my favorite song.  I truly was feeling glorious, like I was flying through the sky on an eagle’s wings.