The death of a fairy tale.

I remember you in the snow,
Christmas morning and your dark eyes glitter,
At my happiness,
At me discovering the frosty prints meandering in the snow,
I remember the booming, joyous laugh you shared with my brother,
On my wonderment and childish belief in all that was magic,
You’re magic.

How you conjured a thousand, fluttering ladybirds around my face,
How you rested a butterfly on my shoulder,
How you pretended I’d saved the cabbage white,
That it had flown away when it hadn’t,
Your paternal, happy-ever-after shield,
How you were my first ever secret valentine,
And enchanted my imagination to who it could be,
Sprinkling into life real fairy tales and marvel,
Only for me.

The way your charm and trickery made me glimpse true beauty and illusion,
And how as I write this onyx tears roll down my face and stain tributaries on my cheeks,
Not the child you knew but a reckless young woman,
Eye's like Venus fly traps, spidery with mascara,
A calamitous woman you have never met but one that still misses you,
And needs you sometimes,

A girl who has no laughing magician,
No playful dreamer,
A child who stumbled, grazing her knees after she fell,
From the safety of your ivory tower,
And landed into the brutal dirt of reality,
In the company of despair and confusion,
Without you.