there was a folk song playing in the background when she figured out the key to life.
it was fast, rigorous with fervor and love and hope and wisdom.
she couldn't stop the poem that possessed her fingers and quietly, she whispered it to herself so she could write it down later.
life was a firework and a broken bone with everything in between.
it had fleeting moments of beauty and grace when everything seemed to light up with the good.
it had agonizing moments of torment when everything seemed to be saturated in the terrible.
but then there were pin pricks where things seemed to knick you just enough for you to notice, but not enough to draw blood.
and then there were creamy smiles that dripped off your cheeks as quickly as they came, dissipating back into the world of warm sweaters.
there was fireworks, and broken bones, and fading bruises, and foggy nights, and sugary sodas, and ripe fruits, and torn blankets, and bright headlights.
there was everything, and in there being everything, there was the inevitable nothing.
