Snow, white and pure, leading me closer to the fabric of my dreams. I was the moon, and you, you were the golden sun. Your voice is ripping through the silence of my days, lingering inside my own thoughts. Lingering, lingering, my dreams are nothing more than a speck of dust in my existence. Clouds are stuffed in my lungs making it harder and harder to breathe, but the little girl looking at the big red balloon is what keeps me ashore. Inside the balloon awaits her dream, a dream that once was mine to dream.
Push me forward with my head through the clouds and help me fly, for I can not do it on my own. Help me fly so I can learn how to stand on my own feet and maybe, maybe I can stop tripping over the words I'll never speak. But don't hold me down under the water where I can not breath, don't hold me down for it puts my lungs on fire and brings my eyes to tears.
Voices are calling me, silently, gently laying me to rest, painting the picture of my soul. Don't whisper to me late at night about all the strokes it took you to paint my soul, don't tell me that the best way to capture my thoughts is to never let the candle burn out. Don't tell me my dreams will come back to me, because, I know they won't and we both know I am better off without them. Don't tell me to pick up the words you made me drop in the first place.
I know how you always admired me for pushing you in the right direction, but the truth, the truth is that I wished I had pushed myself harder too. That big red balloon that once held my dream has been shrinking, shrinking, and shrinking and oh, no matter how hard I try… it’s not big enough for my dreams any longer.
Snow, white and pure, stored in jars where it will never melt.
Snow, only a thought of who you once were
Of who we are.