Buried

she is buried deep beneath skin that sometimes doesn't feel like my own, beneath walls and safety nets i've constructed, rusted nails penetrating through splintering wood. she rests within her darkness (we have made a home here.) but a light radiates from within. she is colored in reds and yellows, pinks and greens. The blues of deep waters and far away skies. Golden hues from the sun still find her, kissing her in spaces that were borrowed but never returned, fragmented pieces she no longer wants back. She is shattered but whole, sharp and prudent. "She laughs without fear of the future." I return to her in times of discomfort, when the skin feels numb and the mind cannot sit still. That's when I see me. That's when she reminds me who I am.