I've always wondered what it'd be like to run away.

The sun on my face,
The grass under my feet
A world of responsibilities
forgotten.

It sounds like heaven.

But I do not want to become a woman on the streets
covered in grime and dirt and starving.

My fairy tale does not belong here.
It is not a wish that can come true.

And yet I want it more than anything in the world.

You spoke of a garden filled to the brim,
Of beautiful foliage and a divine aroma,
Of cascades of colors and an air of grace.
But I slept too late to smell the flowers

They were probably dead all along anyways.