In the quiet forest she rests, by the little creek, babbling like a baby,
like her little nephew whom she loves playing with and holding,
so warm and so sweet, not broken yet, not scraped empty like her.
A melancholy and longing synthwave song plays on her headphones,
and her heart aches for love and a place to rest her head, of a thoughts
quiet and sweet, like when she was a little girl, unselfconscious, free.
Once, she was an elfen queen in this forest, a whole galaxy inside herself,
an wizard with a ray gun, a dragon rider flying through the stars, the brave
knight saving her best friend from The Devil. She once feared The Devil.
She lays down, the earth soft and moist beneath her, the blue sky soft
through the lush and fanning fingers of the tall and eternal trees above,
and she lets the sadness and longing swirl and crash as waves inside her.
The longing, the melancholy, was the only sweet thing left inside her.
She lay there beneath the sky until the stars had come out, before going home.