She has too many words.
She speaks in tangled vines,
Winding and leafy
and deeply intertwined with her soul.
Her skin is thin--
Laughter bubbles easily.
So does sadness.
She feels every feeling fiercely,
Fighting to hold onto what the rain can’t wash away
But she loves the rain.
She dances in it
She scorns the idea of sitting on the sidelines
Life, she says, is meant to be lived
So she splashes in the puddles
of adult reservation