She sits and listens to the firecrackers bursting in the background.
It reminds her of the pulsing beat of her brain when it feels overexerted, under too much strain.
I sparkle of energy falls from the leaky faucet of her eye.
She is so lovely when she imagines the emotions of touching you.
She is like a fallen angel from the sky who gracefully descends and lands with no stutter at all.
Children's laughter echo in the stir of a silent, residual sound.
All seems so alive that it can't be real to move.
Slowly, dimming. Dizzy from the motion of having to keep up.
The Ferris wheel turns and the motion of her stomach churns as if she were on the ride.
She is unlike anyone you have met before.
Stop talking to me I am listening to my head phones.
You could always see the fire in her brown eyes.
Such passion that surfaced to the words that fell from her delicate, soft mouth.
Her mother was kind, her father was different.
Her sister was strong, her brother was free.
She was reminded of the firecrackers that burst out loud when she was small and she had jumped in fear of the BANG!
She was always a little jumpy when it came to noise.
Now it seems that though on this night, firecrackers are brought out to specially ignite, but within her belly there is consistently a possibility of colour, bursting into a variety of fruitful colours with such pure, demonic delight!
Painted streams of colour, shattering the gravity of tangible into the realm of metaphysical.
Pass me a light.
Kiss her goodnight.