To see you transcending before time into little 

droplets of charred sugar-like emotions,

to see you becoming - into the pixie dust that

I wanted to become- live the teenage dream,

cut my roots, dye them into vermillion, green, yellow,

to see you vicariously, casually become 

a womxn in a forest of enchantment with all the 

other men, I know that you’ve become, if not, 

the womxn of the entity.

The anatomy of your dreams consists of a preface. 

My girl - if they didn’t write you a foreword,

write it yourself. A voyage of rubble and stationery. 

You’re a raani from the day you came into me-

A part of me that I’ll always adore. 

Move beneath the ocean and the land - superior.

The sudden unrequited nemesis - not too bad 

for your subtle skin. You’re like a crown, a warrior, a ring.

Careful - the epiphany of your dreams is like change. 

Change is a euphemism.

Piece of velvet in your hair, Artless smile contributing towards 

the cause of humanity - done. 

You’re a nostalgia, a force, a declaration. Your centripetal power 

like that of a social event cannot be escaped.

You’re an angel, a goddess, a devil, a queen. You’re the art, 

the painting, the books, and the movies. 

You’re endless. You’re limitless.

But most of all, you’re a Sappho.