She used to run

wild, laughing, unafraid

bare feet skimming the edge of the world.

She believed in things I have long abandoned:

magic, forever, the kindness of strangers.

I do not know when I lost her.

She was with me once,

when the sun was warm on my face,

when love was something I held

instead of something I mourned.

But time is a quiet thief,

and I let her slip away,

piece by piece,

until she...