princess

I stood outside your window, peering into the mirror image, and wondered if you were looking back at me. Thoughts of romanticism rushed through my head as I contemplated bringing my hand to the glass, and dreamed that you were doing the same; alas no love would have been felt from the cold pane, no warmth of two friends meeting again. I was tempted by my own selfish ways to knock on your door, to see your exasperated grimace as I tried to babble about the pain, but the emotional capacity of such a rewritten tragedy has taken its toll on my sensibility. Nothing I could say would make you give way to the embrace I long for, and just showing up at your doorstep with my heart in my hand would be left for only wanting more.

Mama Goes To Market.

― Rosary, Anna Akhmatova