Boy

To be held in his arms,
Like a fragile vase.

Breakable, yet secure.

Because.
To be held in his arms
Is to be held
Suspended in time.

The world stops in a heartbeat.
His. Hers. Then - theirs.

And he has absolutely no clue he can do that much.

Eulogy to The End

Dragons live forever, but not so little boys.
Painted wings and giant rings make way for other toys.

Every kid has a special toy. The kind that keeps nightmares away. The one you thought would always make it all better. I feel like I just lost mine. What happens to the dreams that were, when the people you dreamed them with... go away?

Coldplay, Oasis, one last song. And then, we're gone.

Girl

Once upon a time in a far away land, there lived a girl. She wasn't a princess, or a countess, or any of the romantic things you hear about in fairy tales. No, this girl was just that - a girl. She was fairly indistinguishable from any other girl around her. If you were kind, you could have described her as homely. If you were realistic, the more accurate term would be 'frumpy'. All her life, this girl grew up knowing that she was ordinary. And the strength of her conviction let others know it too.

In school photos, she would peer short shortsightedly at the camera through dusty gray rimmed glasses. A half smile would be awkwardly pasted in place on her flabby face. Her arms hung listlessly by the side, as though they didn't know where else to go. Yet, the girl could not have been called unhappy. She had her own happy little world after all. She had a gang of friends, all more or less as ordinary as her. They would giggle and gossip their way to school, and share confidences and colas after. Smiling in content company, each girl looked radiant for a heartbeat in passing, as all girls will when they're happy. And so life went on.

Meanwhile, the jocks strutted and the beautiful girls paraded endlessly before them. Artificially conditioned hair bounced alongside gelled heads. Glamorously polished talons slashed a careful boundary inexorably excluding the mundane ordinaries of the world from the elite. The normal girls would watch as the glorious looking couples flounced off to parties and discos; pretending not to notice or care.

Yet at home in the careless minutes between consciousness and slumber, each girl would close her eyes and allow herself to imagine for a moment. She was not lonely and cold, thirsting for attention. The stringy hair wasn't matted but made to shine. The easy smile and confident gait of other girls were hers. That positions were reversed and that she were - oh how she wished she were! - beautiful. Then, with the smile that comes with dreaming improbable dreams, she would roll over, and go to sleep.