The ballroom fills with people, couples dancing to the orchestra’s swelling music, ladies whispering behind their fans about that one prince, men walking around the ballroom with their noses to the sky to impress the shy girls. I stand in the corner and observe. I made my dress; I look to my skirt with quiet. I did the embroidery, but I don’t know if you’ll know that. The orchestra begins to play Tchaikovsky; with the first ethereal chord every lady jumps up and runs to any

Stillness. I feel still for the first time in years. Not the “stillness” you’re forced to feel In meditation, But a stillness in my soul— A return home, A safety in my own skin. I forgot that this was the point. I let my mind wander in so many directions That I forgot this is it. This stillness is where my heart yearns to be. This is what my soul was craving all along. She was just asking to be seen. And once I finally opened the door to her, She hugged me, Welcomed me— B

I hate missing a feeling. I mistake nostalgia For the pain of missing a person— Not a feeling. I look at someone I used to know And wonder what happened to them? Where is the person I used to know, Used to love? Then i always catch myself, Because it isn’t the person that i’m missing, It’s the feeling. They were always like this— I just didn’t know them enough. The feelings I felt— The happiness, Safety, Trust— I felt was all there. They built it, And convinced me That