I Stand Here Waiting. To

Once Upon A Time . . . What Time Are We Upon And Where Do I Belong?

I Was Staring To Learn How To Forget The Things That Made Me Sad. It Was Like A Charm You Followed Step-by-step, Collecting And Blending The Ingredients, Placing Everything In Its Proper Place, Reciting The Incantation. It Was The Magic Of Forgetting.

She Pushed The Gardener Away And Called For Them. In Her Sleep She Had Seen Love. It Was Poisoning. It Was Possessing. Devouring. Or It Was Seven Pairs Of Boots Climbing Up The Stairs To Find Her.

Everything Is An Illusion; That Is The Whole Thing About It - Illusion, Immitation, A Mirage. It Makes Me Too Sad. Its Having Like A Good Dream, You Know You Are Going To Wake Up.

At Least The Girls In Stories Were Alive Before They Died.