She smells like something musky and quietly contained.

When I hug her, she is autumn leaves

babies blankets

sharp edges

with soft centers

and too many thoughts.

Slender arms and wrists locked behind my neck,

narrow frame pressing close

she tucks her face into my shoulder

and

I feel like saving her.

Every time I look into her limitless eyes

a whirlwind

tunnel

reflection.

.

 

Eyes that struggle to hide what the world has done

what she has done

what she bottles up inside like

too many cold and empty nights trying to

imagine the space next to her embodied with love

carefully and tenderly constructed in

broad chest and

ropey arms

a steady beating heart and so much warmth

instead of dark, limitless, air.

 

like

the way she is utterly still when scorching

metal meets upturned wrist and skin

gently reddens and darkens and bubbles

pain is bliss and perfect for what ails her

 

like

she has never heard her father raise his voice

without a smile and

she finds the woman who pushes him to that edge

the edge she thought that only she could see

a stranger

 

like

"mother" is a foreign word on her tongue

personified in trips to the toy aisle

and promises to promise to promise again

and not deliver.

 

She is begging for help

but not from me,

Not when she walks with her head held high and

her stride unwavering

gaze cutting down anyone who dares to raise an eyebrow

roll a tongue

part lips

unleash words she has no interest in.

 

 

Thud against thud against thud, all challenge.

Not the walk of someone who needs to be saved.

 

 

But they don't see the way she looks at me.

The way she can never meet my eyes head on and

when she does

exclamations of outrage;

 

 

I am never to look at her that way

never to tell her how much I love her without words

when words are her blessing

it rattles her up inside.

Pierces through her hastily constructed armer

exposes every heartfelt wish

every regret

stumble

fall

back step...

 

 

But she is not the girl who waits for a hero

despite her longing glances.

She is not waiting to be saved

though she always trembles a bit whenever

I let her go.

 

She wants to save herself.

Superwoman, in her own right.

 

But she is just a girl waiting.

Waiting for a boy

who may never come.