Sometimes..

Sometimes, here in the dark, I struggle to find myself
Here in the dark, I find a shell
A shell of a girl, a shell of a life.
When I return to her, she groans, turning over to reach out with a paled hand, her eyes continuously yearning for me.
Her eyes are round, baby blue and fading into a light forest green, dotted with brown flecks. Yet they are gray in reflection.
She doesn't want to be Cinderella. She's a liar. She threw it on purpose to be found. This girl wants to be the seeker, not having to wait on someone to love and dote on her. She doesn't want to be like Juliet. She was a cheater. She pretended to care. Love is in a big box rather than a small one. Cage-like is this box. This girl is sitting in this box, her legs dangling over the edge. Her arms wind around the bars, almost embracing them. Her head leans precariously to the side, her eyes open. She is almost doll-like. Her lips part lightly, but silence escapes. Tears stream down her face as she reaches again for me. I recognize this gesture and take her hand in mine. Slowly we become one and I am her. So sad yet lovely. Like a wilting flower.
My shoulders break and my arms fall off. I fall back, only to suffocate in silence. I end my own solitude by being my own puppeteer. With this, I am stronger. I am free.