the virgin suicides

by Rachel Lynch in

tell me you know how it's going to end, how this world has never been your friend. when i was broken, you picked me up off the floor; crying and and folded like a child. you breathed into me like a new born and i opened like a virgin petal.

you taught me to run, and in turn I never stopped. If we don't know how to use our legs now then we never will. The mind is a healing place now; no longer a battle ground for our sing song romance. Notes on past harmonies fade as  I run into who I was meant to be. A stranger no more in this land of unturned cheeks, I am greeted with love at the door because I am in the golden land of my family.  Southern home. Where life is given and love is easily found on every step of the spiral staircase. I walk in this colonial brick house as a young girl to whom much has been given and taken. I grew from nothing in this place, and I in turn would die for them here, so young.