A wallflower girl.
I stand on the sidelines. I watch things happen, palely and flamingly.
I write them down.
An adagio girl.
I weave in and out sporadically, in slow tempo. Shut-off. Silent. Often unheard.
But I never stop singing.
An orchid girl.
I float quietly in a jelly-glassful of roses,
Content to bloom in darkness.
A candlelight girl.
I may not have the brilliance to grace a ballroom alone,
But I possess the glow to read bedtime stories and conceal the fine dust on the floor.
A prism-glass girl,
Who swallows white-hot pain and refracts it into a thousand colors.
I see the latticed light pour forth, and send my faint gleam out from the gutter to the stars.
I am the scattered notes of fragmented truth, splitting and spilling in sparkling shards.
My clear chords blossom like balloons.
A note or two of star-pearled dew.
A scattered song, fragile with flaw,
Esther Haelan Ra,