Dear ghost,
Margaret Atwood said, " the desire to be loved is the last illusion, give it up and you will be free." As snow curtain fell in this winter, I, in the cold, said again;
As the swirling snow fell on my brow,
Wonders of the earth fell beneath my door,
One more night to relive my light
One more choice to overcome my fear,
One more effort to redeem my soul,
Love, don't wait too long.
I remember I wrote this poem as a gift to my coward heart. Like a courage to my soul. It was a letter to my hope. But hope is such a heavy burden. So, to the 18 year old me, who touched snow for the first time, it's okay, you have tasted the fairy dust even among adults. You only need to create the neverland in your feardom
Yours even as I fear to be.