She sits on the bow and dangles her feet,
a rigid cloaked figure looms on the stern.
She runs her hands across the skeletal vessel,
thick mist twists and slivers past her cheek.
A coin-filled cage hangs off the Ferryman's arm
as he pulls an ore through the ominous glow.
A rusty lantern rocks and steadily creeks,
bright green flames lick the Ferryman's robe.
Into the void, into the churning ink
he gently rows across the river of woe
where no one hears her scream.

I will spread dirt into every crevice of my broken heart and plant flowers so big and beautiful, that their roots will mend all the shattered pieces back together, and you’ll never be able to see the mess I used to be.

i used to think fireflies were just in the movies
because we don't get enough rain here
the first firefly i ever saw took my breath away
and has had it ever since

i used to think snow was just in the movies
because we don't get enough rain here
the first snowflake i ever caught on my tongue gave me goosebumps
and it let me keep them

i used to think magic was just in the movies
because we don't get enough love here
but the first time you kissed my lips, you turned my world on it's axis
and it never quite turned back